


The True Dragons of Camelot

by anarchycox



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Merlin, Banter, Destiny, Fluff, Injury, Lots of dragons - Freeform, Multi, Secrets, Sex, Soft Arthur, Uther never commit genocide, did merlin and arthur just become best friends, dragon lords live, gwen is all their impulse control, happy ever after, magic is everywhere outside camelot, morgana is saved before she goes full evil, snarky but noble gwaine, switches every three chapters between Arthur's and Merlin's pov, yeah they did
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27958643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: Uther never declared war on magic or the dragon lords - all the other kingdoms were just strong enough and supportive of the old ways that it wasn't worth the cost of the war. Instead magic has always been banned in Camelot but any mage is allowed a day to reach the borders and be banished forever.One day a patrol informs Arthur, that dragons have been found nesting under lower town. He knows his father would say kill them but that could collapse half of lower town, kill his men, and the dragons. Arthur lies to Uther and with his private guard heads out to find the dragon clan, determined to pay any price to see the safety of Camelot. Even his life.He didn't expect the price would be he and Gwaine being bound in marriage to members of the dragon clan.
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Lancelot/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 189
Kudos: 166
Collections: Anarchy and Nerdy Fill the Same Prompt





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> well, we all new I'd write an epic eventually. and here we are with a Merlin is the Dragon Lord au. I am leaning hard into BAMF Merlin and vulnerable Arthur in this because I can.
> 
> This is my 250th fic on ao3. 
> 
> If you enjoy please let me know!

“Gwaine, how many have you had?” Arthur had been sitting at his desk when Gwaine burst in. He was rather thankful for the interruption, because harvest reports were not the most stimulating reading. But they had to be read. His father was handing more and more of the ruling of Camelot over to him, though it was stuff that Morgana would be far better at handling. He had tried to point out several times that of the two of them Morgana had the keener intellect, and Uther should be taking advantage of that. But a ward was not an heir and he ignored Arthur’s pleas, ignored the anger and resentment that was slowly growing in Morgana. 

Arthur tried to engage her, but she was pulling more and more away from him and he missed her greatly. But that didn’t matter right now, because Gwaine had burst into his office, shouting about dragons under Camelot. And he could not have one of his knights drunk on the job. He would have the man clean the garderobes and the stables. His father would have Gwaine flogged, but that was not Arthur's way.

“Sir, I know I joke, but if I was don’t you think I would at least try to make up something more plausible than a family of dragons taking up residence under lower town?” Gwaine gave him a look and there was a fair point to be found in that statement.

“Show me,” Arthur said. They stopped at the armory and a servant helped him with chain mail. Gwaine lead him through the city and the fact that at one of the tunnels underground Leon was waiting and looked nervous was a concern. Leon never looked nervous. “Gwaine was lying, right?”

Leon swallowed, “Would that he were.”

Well, shit. They went into the caves under lower town and soon the smell reached him. Fire and shit, and something he couldn’t identify. They rounded a corner and Arthur just stared. He gave a slow nod and walked out of the tunnels. The closed the gate and Arthur kept walking until he reached the tavern. He signaled for ale and went to a table. It was quiet for a moment, the crown prince being in the establishment shocking to the crowd, but slowly the noise picked up again. Leon and Gwaine sat across from him, and a man brought them mugs. Arthur thanked him and drained his dry. He ignored the grunt of approval from Gwaine. 

“I really wish it had been some sort of prank,” Arthur whispered. “I counted four.”

“I had seen five, there is a baby,” Gwaine kept his voice low. “Hidden in the wing of its mother.”

“How?” Arthur looked at them. “How is there a full dragon nest under lower town?” His two knights were helpless to answer though. “What do we do?”

“Tell the king?” Leon suggested.

Gwaine frowned, “He’ll just order them dead, even though dragons are to be protected.”

Gwaine wasn’t wrong. “Plus, if killing them goes poorly, they collapse those tunnels and we lose most of lower town,” Arthur signaled for more ale. “Father banned dragon speakers from Camelot.”

“That many, a dragon speaker wouldn’t do you any good, Princess, you would need a full lord to get them out.”

“The dragon lords haven’t come near to Camelot since my father took the throne,” Arthur shook his head. “I don’t even know how to get word to them. They travel.”

“Not in winter,” Gwaine replied. “The lords make camp in the east, in the warm. My liege had to bargain with them once, a wyvern infestation.”

“Could you find this camp?”

“No, but Percival could,” Gwaine replied. Percival could always find anyone, it was a gift of his.

“We tell my father that we are going after some bandits.”

“We’d be gone a couple months at least, Arthur, that is hardly bandit hunting,” Leon, ever practical, pointed out. 

Arthur tapped his fingers on the table. “We heard of rogue magic prepared to assault Camelot, and are hunting down the culprits.”

“That he would support wholeheartedly,” Gwaine made that face he always did when discussing Uther’s hatred of magic. Gwaine grew up in lands where magic was welcome, and had been appalled when as a part of a treaty he had been sent to Camelot to be Arthur’s knight and found that all magic was banished. 

“We leave at dawn,” Arthur said. He stood and Leon came with him, but Gwaine was headed to the bar. “Dawn,” he reminded the man.

Gwaine just grinned and ignored him; lovely he’d be traveling hard with a hungover knight. He tried not to judge Gwaine too much for it, he had been bartered away to Arthur, a knight easily abandoned by his own king since his father had died. He knew that Gwaine hated Uther, but he was almost loyal to Arthur and Arthur would take that.

He went back to the keep and informed his father that he had heard of a mage cult setting up near the far borders. He wanted to take a team to make them understand that they were not welcome on Camelot’s soil. Uther seemed well pleased with this and praised his aggressive attitude towards magic. He was allowed to take a team of a dozen with him, though he knew he was taking only his most trusted.

In the hallway he had to stop and take a breath, a sick feeling in his stomach. His father was growing more rabid about his dislike of magic. 

“So now you hunt mages…for sport?”

“Morgana, please,” Arthur begged. He would like just one nice word from his sister. They used to fight all the time, to be sure, but not like the last few months. He looked at her, “Please.”

She had a look of disgust on her face. “Really becoming his man, aren’t you? You know there is nothing wrong with magic in and of itself!”

Arthur looked at Uther’s door. He went over and dragged Morgana away, and back to her rooms. “Of course I do,” he hissed, “I’m not going after mages, I never would.”

“Then what?” 

“There is a dragon nest under lower town, Morgana, and if we attack it, that whole portion of the city could fall into the ground.” She connected the dots easily, because if he was honest she was far more clever than he was.

“You go to seek the dragon lords,” Morgana nodded, “Uther would never let you.”

“Hence the lie,” Arthur agreed. “Morgana, they were sleeping, but I can’t guarantee they stay like that. You need to be prepared to do what you have to, to save our people.”

“Your people,” she sneered.

Arthur shook her a bit. “Our people,” he snapped, “I don’t know what is going on with you these days, but whatever it is, I’m not going to be here to protect them and Father -” he had to swallow, and admit something he didn’t want to, “and Father’s mind grows wrong.”

“He won’t listen to me, I’m to sit there and look pretty until he marries me off,” Morgana smiled, “He’s been mentioning Cenred again.”

“I will never let that happen,” Arthur swore, “You deserve better than that bastard. Also, well,” he flushed a bit and there was a flash of the old Morgana in her smile, “well, yes, you prefer other affections.” 

“Arthur, I would almost think you care.”

“I do,” Arthur growled, “And that’s the problem, isn’t it? I always care and it isn’t enough. I don’t understand why it can’t be enough, Morgana.”

“A ruler has to be prepared to make hard choices, Arthur. Uther is right in that.”

“There is always another way,” Arthur insisted, “And in this case it is me riding out and finding the dragon lords and beseeching their aid.”

“They may not help, with Uther’s history.”

“I will convince them. You just keep Camelot in one piece. Promise me Morgana.” Arthur watched her and she gave a faint nod, and he had to hope that was enough. His next stop was to the court physician. He woke the woman, but a few healing elixirs for their journey would not be a bad thing. Also the woman had a wealth of information in her mind and was able to answer a few questions for Arthur about dragon lords. It wasn’t much, they had been banned from Camelot for so long, but still it was more than what Arthur had known. He only remembered stories from wet nurses. He had a fitful sleep and then a bit before dawn he had a servant dress him. Leon, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan were already waiting.

“Gwaine, have you even been to bed at all?” He could see where marks had been sucked onto the man’s neck. 

“No,” Gwaine replied, “But trust me, I’m feeling quite energized.”

“I -” Arthur sighed, “If you fall off your horse, we will leave you behind.”

They mounted their horses and in the grey light of dawn headed out, hopefully to save Camelot, and the dragons asleep beneath it.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur was tired. They had been riding to the limit of what the horses could handle, and still he hated how much time they were losing. Every day increased the risk of what those dragons under Camelot might do. But the dragon lords weren’t where they expected, they had traveled north into the mountains. A treacherous journey through territory that had no love for Camelot. Arthur ordered all the men to pack away cloak and insignia. It was the second day into the mountain path that they were set on. The bandits weren’t particularly skilled, but they had the advantage of knowing the terrain better. Arthur dealt with a bandit, but when he spun to deal with another the pebbles that littered the path caused him to slide and fall.

“Arthur!” Gwaine yelled and tackled the man about to kill him. It was a hard scrabble but Gwaine won, but when he stood there was a knife in his thigh.

“You saved my life,” Arthur was honestly stunned. He knew Leon would lay his life down for him, but he had not expected it of Gwaine. 

“I know, weird, right?” Gwaine stumbled and started to collapse, and Percival caught him. Gwaine passed out which was a bit of a relief that he wouldn’t be aware when they removed the dagger and bandaged the wound.

“Sir?”

“He needs a physician,” Arthur looked at the path. “It is three days back to that village and it didn’t inspire hope. Or we keep forward and hope we find the dragon lords in time.” He didn’t say that neither option boded well for Gwaine.

“Forward,” Elyan called, “He would tell us to go forward.” There were general nods of agreement. Gwaine was gently lain over his saddle and strapped to it. Arthur guided the horse. By the time night fell, they felt like they had barely covered any distance, and there was no scent of fires, no signs of life. They set up camp and Gwaine woke slowly. He winced and looked down at his leg.

“That does not look great.”

“You will survive, I order you to,” Arthur said.

“When have I ever listened to you, princess?” Gwaine was trying to be his usual self, but he was pale, lips thin. 

“I am begging you to listen to me now,” Arthur looked at the night, “I order you to live. We will find aid.” He tossed a bit of branch onto the fire that he had been mangling. “We will find the dragon lords.”

“My ma, before she passed, she would tell me and Gwen stories of the dragon lords,” Elyan smiled a bit, remembering. Arthur was surprised, he seldom talked of his sister who had gone missing years ago and was presumed dead. Arthur knew Elyan liked to pretend she was out there somewhere. Arthur remembered her a little, they had played as children, before his father had said a blacksmith’s daughter was an inappropriate playmate. The only reason Elyan was a knight was because his father had died protecting Uther, and it was the way they rewarded the man. “They were always larger than life. Flying through the sky, riding dragons as easily as we ride horses. Women next to men, wild folk in uncivilized clothes and fierce weapons. Ruthless protectors. Though her stories usually had a dragon speaker falling madly in love with a knight, and then disappearing together on the back of a dragon.”

“They dress not that different from us,” Percival added, and they all looked at him curious. “I had a cousin, when they were fifteen they made this noise in their sleep, we thought they had maybe gone mad. And then a few days later, a man walked into the village, a small dragon flying around him. The dragon was swooping about through the houses until it came through our window and landed on my cousins shoulder. A dragon hears the call of its speaker and seeks them out. We knew our cousin would leave us. But I wanted to make sure she would be safe, so I insisted on going along. How I knew where the camp was.”

“So if we find them, you’ll see family,” Arthur nodded, that was a nice thing. 

“Perhaps,” Percival agreed.

“When my bastard lord employed them for the wyverns, it was a team,” Gwaine said. “A man and woman who came to our aid. Beautiful, tried to bed them,” Gwaine laughed a bit. “She said she loved me for trying, and knowing when to stop. Which was a very nice way of telling me to stop.” Gwaine smiled a bit, “still dream of them a bit. That would have been a spectacular night.”

Arthur flushed a bit, “A couple at the same time?” 

Gwaine grinned, and almost looked fine. “Sire, there is all sorts of fun to be had out in the world. Just waiting for you to smile at it.”

“We don’t all have your smile, Gwaine,” Arthur replied. “We should change the bandage.” Arthur checked Gwaine’s leg. The rag was soaked through with blood. They exchanged a look. They knew it wasn’t good. “You’ll be fine.” Arthur bound it in fresh cloth. 

“Of course, your highness,” Gwaine agreed. He looked up, “What is that?”

There was a small blur of white in the sky that circled for a moment and then shot away. “Was that a dragon?” Arthur stood, and took a few steps in the direction it had traveled. He couldn’t see where it had gone. He longed to follow, to maybe trust it would lead to the dragon lords, but on an unknown path it would be impossible. He went back to their fire and prayed. A couple hours later, Gwaine was starting to sweat and not be able to stay awake. Arthur was getting to the point of debating sealing the wound with heated steel, but that carried so many risks. 

“Sire,” Leon called and was drawing his sword. Arthur moved forward, torches and voices were coming from the path north. A small company came to them, men well armed, a woman in a simple dress that didn’t detract from her beauty, and a thin awkward man, carrying a physician’s bag.

“Please,” Arthur said quickly. “A -” he almost said knight, but quelled the word, just to be safe, “A fellow of mine took a blade meant for my throat. He needs aid, and quickly.”

“Why do you travel these roads?” the woman asked, and Arthur supposed she was in charge at least of this group. 

“We seek the dragon lords,” Arthur replied. 

“Many do.” But they didn’t move. The physician was clearly itching to help, but he was also reluctant to move forward when his lady was staying so cold. Arthur heard Gwaine cry out in pain and he didn’t think, didn’t care what his father said about a prince of Camelot never kneeling to anyone. He dropped willingly to the hard ground and bowed his head.

“I am Arthur Pendragon, son of King Uther.”

“No,” she said and turned away, the guards following suit. The physician looked torn, watching Gwaine in pain.

“Please,” Arthur begged, “please my knight will die. My people will die. There is a dragon nest under the poor part of the city, if we do something it could harm those people. Gold, gems, my life, anything, if you help my knight, help my people.”

“Your life, really?” she snorted a bit. “A trick.”

“Freya, there is an injured man,” the physician whined.

“I swear it,” Arthur said. “As the Prince of Camelot, I swear to pay any price, if you aid my knight, and aid the people of Camelot. I don’t want - the dragons are just sleeping and my father would kill them. I can’t -” Arthur swallowed. “Please.”

She tilted her head which was apparently enough for the young man and he ran to Gwaine, and started ordering them about. He tore away Gwaine’s pants from the wound.

“Usually people buy me a drink before they start ripping the kit off,” Gwaine managed to say.

Lord save them, the man was dying and still flirting. Arthur stayed kneeling to show he meant his oath, and the woman kept her eye on him. She then nodded. “Merlin?”

“Yes, yes,” the man said and was rubbing something foul smelling onto Gwaine leg. “Tell you what, I’ll have a drink with you when you are healed,” he was saying to Gwaine. 

“Will he heal?”

“I’m not the physician, he is old and couldn’t make the journey quickly when Aithusa told us you were on the path. But he’s taught me a fair bit. I can heal him enough so that he can make our camp. I’m just a servant, but I’ll do everything I can.” He was wholly focused on Gwaine, which was all that Arthur cared about. The woman gestured and half the men left with her and they head back along the path. 

“Gwaine,” Gwaine said. “She said Merlin?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty name, for a pretty man.”

Even in the dim light of the fire, Arthur could see the servant’s ears turn a bit read. “Focus on living please Gwaine.”

“What life is worth living if I don’t flirt with the handsome man saving my life?” Gwaine countered. He winced when Merlin’s fingers pressed in. “Are you a dragon speaker?”

“I am,” Merlin looked at the wound. “Shit, I can feel the infection trying to settle in.” Arthur paled. That was a death sentence. He blinked when the servant’s eyes went gold, and he cast magic on Gwaine’s leg. “There, better.” He went back to tending the wound.

Arthur could feel his knight’s eyes on him unsure what to do. They knew what Uther would be like, but they didn’t serve Uther in any way save name. They were looking to Arthur for his command. “Magic is protected in the rest of the world. A world that we currently walk in. My father’s law cannot supersede that. We have no response to any magic we see except to thank it when it saves our friend’s life.”

“You consider your knights your friends?”

Arthur looked at the men who had joined him on this mad journey. “I do,” he said softly. “I would give my life for any of them.”

“Huh, maybe Camelot isn’t as bad as we hear then.”

“No, it really is, beautiful. At the bar they cut me off at nine drinks. Oh and the king is a vile bastard who hates magic. Which is stupid because magic is pretty. And his daughter. Like you, beautiful. I want to drown in your eyes.” Gwaine waved a hand in the air. “Hello, eyes.” 

“Hello,” Merlin replied.

“Well, he is having an interesting reaction to the medicine you are putting on that leg.” Arthur chuckled a bit. “Got him all muddled up.”

“No, a little loopy is all, likely more from the blood loss. He is stable, and we can get him back to camp where Gaius can finish the work properly. I’ll guide you, and attend to you once we reach camp.”

“Attend?” Arthur helped lift Gwaine ready to rock him over the horse again, but the guards stepped forward a litter ready. “My men can carry him, we don’t want to be a burden.”

“The guards will know where to step on the path, keep him jostled as little as possible.”

That was a fair point. Arthur helped lay Gwaine down on the cot. He smiled a bit. “Morgana pretty magic,” Gwaine laughed. Gwaine was incredibly fanciful and foolish at times. They started walking, even with the torches it was too dangerous to ride the horses. “Attend?” Arthur repeated.

“Yes,” Merlin said. “I’m sort of an all purpose servant at camp. And it will take him a couple days to recover, and a few days before the dragon lord will see your request.”

“We don’t have a few days.”

“You do,” Merlin replied, “Sleeping in tunnels under a city, were there young with them?”

“There was a babe,” Arthur answered.

“They are in rest mode then, a safe haven for a year until the young is old enough to breathe fire,” Merlin explained. “A family hibernation.”

Now that was interesting to learn. They continued on and eventually they saw the fires of a camp. One that was well surrounded by rock. Until the rock opened its eye. “Oh,” Arthur could feel his heart racing as he realized it wasn’t rock wall. It was dragons. At least a dozen full grown dragons that surrounded the encampment. “That is -” he didn’t have the words.

“We have two tents for you and your men,” Merlin said and guided them and Arthur gestured to the others to follow, but he followed where the litter went. It was a large tent and smelled of herbs and healing things. He watched an older man approach and examine Gwaine’s leg.

“Merlin did good work.”

“You sound surprised,” Arthur glared at the man, “did you send a poor physician to aid us?”

“No, just that his training with me was interrupted with other tasks around the camp.”

“He said he was a servant, that he would see to us until the dragon lord is ready.” Arthur couldn’t understand why the older man laughed, but assumed it was a thing that just belonged to the group. “Will Gwaine be fine?”

“I believe so, but he’ll need rest before he is ready to return to -” the man looked at him.

“Camelot, I am Prince Arthur, he is one of my personal knights.” The old man winced. “I am aware we are perhaps not as welcome as others would have been.”

“This is going to be interesting,” was all that the old man said. He made some sort of potion, and poured it down Gwaine’s throat and there was the hum of magic. “There we go. He’ll sleep easy until morning, which will allow his body to heal. You should get rest.”

Arthur planted his feet. “I will see my knight safe.”

“He is safe here,” the old man reassured him. “I have an oath to honour, that any who come through that flap there receive the best care that I can offer.”

“Sir -”

“Gaius.”

“Gaius, he never wanted to be mine, but he risked his life for me. I cannot leave him.” Arthur looked down at Gwaine. He seldom saw the man look so peaceful. He was all jokes and drunkenness to hide the rage that burned in him. And the need he hoped no one would notice. Arthur was not as oblivious as his men thought. “He will know he was watched over.”

“The prince of Camelot a good man, that is a bit unexpected.” Gaius moved a bench next to the cot. “So you can sit.” He then went back to a table where he was clearly preparing medicine.

Merlin came into the tent and went over to Gaius and said something that had the old man packing up and leaving. “He needs sleep. No matter how he protests he isn’t that old. Hungry?”

“No,” Arthur sat and watched Gwaine. “Are my men settled?”

“The large one snores incredibly loudly. Your second looked ready to come find you, and the other one -”

“Elyan.”

“He reminds me of someone.”

“Oh?” Arthur looked at Merlin, and for a moment there was something in the man’s eyes. “Who?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Merlin smiled a bit. “Drink? I know where Gaius has a stash of a sweet cordial that packs a wallop.”

“That would be very welcome,” Arthur had to admit. “You weren’t where we expected.”

“The traditional grounds didn’t suit the new dragon lord. Those were Balinor’s lands since his dragon loved the water. The new high lord, his dragon prefers the caves in the mountains, so we moved here.”

“Bit hard to find?”

“I dunno, you found us.” Merlin looked at him. “You are very different from Uther, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea,” Arthur felt the weight on his shoulders pressing him down. “I am so tired.” He had no idea why he just admitted that to a servant. But hours, days, weeks of fear and worry all crashed through him. His breath started to come quickly, and his hands were shaking. He stood up and he needed something to fight, or to run, he felt like he was being pulled in a million directions. He looked around, desperate and his breath grew quicker.

“Hey, hey,” Merlin was in front of him, “Can I touch you?”

“No,” Arthur flinched. “No one ever touches me.”

“Gods, above, fuck Camelot,” the man muttered to himself. “Okay, yeah, won’t touch you. You touch me. Here are my hands, in the air. If you can, just press them against mine. Breathe with me.” Merlin was taking slow and steady breaths, and Arthur tried to match them and couldn’t. “Press against my hands.” Arthur raised them, matched their palms together and pushed. He was surprised when it didn’t push the thin servant back. “Good,” Merlin said. “That pressure feel it? It is grounding you, you are met with firm, not falling.” Arthur pressed harder wanted to knock the man over, but he had planted his feet well and every press was met equally. He didn’t even know when he had begun to match Merlin’s breath but he was, and it began to be better. “Good,” Merlin said, “There you go. Arthur, it will be fine.”

“No it won’t, it is all falling apart, and I’m not enough to hold it together.”

“I think, you might be.” Merlin kept standing there, and after a bit Arthur nodded and stepped back. “You clearly need sleep.”

“I am not leaving him,” Arthur was resolute in this. That odd servant just sort of rolled his eyes, and a cot was moved next to Gwaine. Arthur hesitantly lay down. “If I sleep you could murder us.”

“I could, but honestly if we were going to do that, we would have done it on the path. Bodies in camp? Too much work.”

That was actually a fair point. Arthur lay down. “Is Camelot really so hated in the world?”

“Don’t get out a lot do you?”

“No.” Uther had made sure that Arthur trained well and learned a bit about the world, but not so much to let him experience. It was honestly a marvel that he was allowed Percival and Gwaine, men borne out of the kingdom but they were both careful how much they shared, and he knew it was from a threat from his father credible enough to quiet even Gwaine’s tongue. “I just want my people safe.”

“I am sure the dragon lord will listen to you, when you meet him.”

Arthur tried to stay awake, but he was so weary that he drifted off. Hours later it was Gwaine’s laugh that woke him. He bolted up and saw Gwaine sitting up on his cot, and Merlin checking the wound. Whatever Gwaine had said made the servant’s ear tips red. But he was also smiling a little bit. “Gwaine?”

“Princess, you snore very loudly.”

Arthur rolled his eyes a bit. “Are you well?”

“He is healing well, a few days of rest and Gaius’s medicine, and he should be right as rain.” Merlin smiled at them. “He could move to the tents we have for your party, if you like.”

“I don’t know, maybe I need some medical attention. Perhaps we could move me to your tent?” Gwaine was grinning at the servant. 

Arthur was happy that Gwaine was returning to normal but still. “Gwaine! He is a servant and you are a knight of Camelot. You will behave with decorum and respect as befits your station, and the care that this man has given you. Show some appreciation and not lechery.”

“I solemnly swear on my oath as an almost honourable man, I would absolutely show him appreciation.”

Arthur was ready to yell, but Merlin laughed and looked delighted, the flush on his neck as well as his ears, so Arthur settled for a stern look at Gwaine. “Can he walk to our tent?”

“I’d prefer weight be kept off that leg,” Merlin said. “Gwaine lay down, please.”

“Happily,” Gwaine winked.

“Lord save me,” Arthur muttered. Both he and Gwaine went very quiet though when Merlin’s eyes went gold, and the cot floated and began to move. Merlin moved it through the camp and Arthur followed, staring. There were dragons of all sizes sitting and flying about. It was -

It was incredible.

Arthur turned slowly around and didn’t know where to look, there was so much to see. A small brown dragon flew over and blew smoke in his face and he laughed, swatted it away. “Hello,” he said and the dragon tilted its head. “I’m sorry, I am not a dragon speaker,” he apologized to the little dragon. It made a little rumble at him and then flew away. “Was that a baby?”

“No, almost fully grown. Think about dogs - some are small and some are giant. Dragons are the same way,” Merlin said. “They range from about that size, to the ones that are the size of castles.”

“Really?” Arthur swallowed.

“No, not that big. But manor house,” Merlin replied. He held open the tent flap and the cot flew in and gently settled on the ground. “Now, I am going to be helping you, while you are here. I’ll bring a pot over to break your fast, and then I can show you the bathing pools. Gwaine, I’m sorry but the water has minerals that feel wonderful generally but not on that healing wound. We’ll need to give you a sponge bath.”

Gwaine opened his mouth, and Arthur cleared his throat with a glare. “My thanks,” was all that Gwaine said.

“Generally when new people come the lord sees them in a day or two, but circumstances are a bit different since you are from Camelot and he’ll be wanting to prepare a bit more first.”

“I have a cousin who was a dragon speaker. I was hoping they are here,” Percival said.

“What’s their name?”

“Kalinde,” Percival replied.

Arthur was relieved at the happy smile that Merlin gave Percival. “They are well respected in the camp, are our chief weaver. I’ll make sure they find you.” Percival gave a nod in thanks. “Right, well, let’s get you fed. You are all really well fit and that takes a lot of food. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Merlin disappeared and Arthur checked over his men. “You are all well?”

Leon nodded. “We were comfortable all night, sire. A dragon came in and slept on Elyan most of the night, like a stray cat. Dragons are not quite what I expected.”

“Neither are the dragon speakers,” Arthur said. “This is what my father rails against? We’ve been met with care and kindness. I do not understand.” He thought of that little brown dragon, wished he had reached out and pet it. “Gwaine?”

“Yes?” Gwaine sat up a bit.

“How hated is Camelot in the world?” He watched Gwaine and Percival exchange a look, and Percival give a small shake of his head. “Nevermind,” Arthur could guess at the answer. He hung his head, “That is not my people’s fault. I will see them safe from the threat under the city.” He took a breath. “I will gain their aid, no matter the cost.” He assumed that with Camelot’s reputation the cost would be high, and he would pay it. “I just hope the dragon lord will listen to our request.”

There was a table with chairs and Arthur went to sit. Leon looked like he almost wanted to reach out and give his shoulder a squeeze, like how the knights gave to each other, but then he pulled back, a line that couldn’t be crossed with the prince. A line that Uther insisted on, and that Arthur had walked. Arthur reached out and squeezed Leon’s forearm. He was given a smile in return and a shoulder pat. It felt comforting.

The air among the knights relaxed a bit and by the time Merlin returned with food, Arthur was more comfortable with his knights than he had ever been before.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur went to the bathing pools, restless and increasingly anxious. They had been there a week now, and no word on when the dragon lord would see them. Merlin was seeing to them well, and Gwaine was healing quickly with their magic. He had actually been up and walking about that morning, and found himself surrounded by dragons. They all were quite regularly - it seemed that they had been adopted. There was one that slipped into the tents every night and slept on Elyan’s feet. And that little brown one he had met that first morning in camp, tended to find him and sit on his shoulder as Arthur walked about the camp.

It was comforting.

And sure enough the dragon was flying through the air making that cute little happy squeak at seeing Arthur and spun around a bit, landed on his shoulder. Arthur scritched the dragon’s neck, and the dragon reached out and nuzzled his face along Arthur’s jaw. “Hello, there. I am going for a swim. Would you care to come along?” There were the little squeaks and whistles that he thought signaled a yes. He had learned that some dragons could actually speak, but they were the larger ones. Anything horses size and under couldn’t speak a human language. The dragon speakers could understand them fine, but it was not for Arthur. It saddened him a bit, to not be able to fully communicate with his little companion, but he supposed when they left it wouldn’t really matter.

Arthur made his way to the pools and there were several people in them. It was an odd formation in the mountain, and he knew that Leon had been fascinated by them. They ranged in size from shallow and small, to big enough that a dozen people could bathe and not touch each other. There were cheerful greetings and he gave polite nods as he tried not to stare. They had learned on their first trip to the pools that the dragon clan didn’t particularly care about…communal nudity. He had demanded all his men turn their heads when a woman was emerging from the pools and ordered that Gwaine was never allowed near them. He’d have water brought to him until they left, if Arthur had to carry it himself. 

The woman and Merlin had laughed at him, and Arthur tried to act casual about the nudity, but was relieved when Merlin lead them to a couple pools that were a bit into the rock and hidden from most eyes. He headed to those ones now, eyes up. He smiled as he saw the pool with the small waterfall, the water did feel incredible. He was so eager to get in he missed the small pile of clothes beside the pool. 

Arthur was there naked, the dragon dive bombing into the water, when the woman popped up from out of the water. The sun making the water on her breasts glisten. Arthur fell into the pool trying to quickly avert his eyes from the sight. When he broke the surface, he made sure to turn around. “My apologies,” he said formally. 

“Arthur, it is fine,” she said. “We have bathed together before.” There was a low chuckle and he shivered a bit, the sound making his heart ache. It sounded like a grown up version of a sound that had once brought him immeasurable joy. “Arthur, do you not remember me? It has been a very long time. But not so long that you forgot me, I hope.”

Arthur closed his eyes. “I am sorry, I do not.” It was a lie, but he had to because if he was wrong about who it was, it would break his and Elyan’s heart. “If I don’t remember you, I can’t be hurt if I am wrong.”

“Arthur, you have a scar on your forearm, you told your father you got it falling off a roof, but it was because we swore to be best friends forever, and you had read about blood oaths in a book.” Arthur rubbed the small scar on his arm and the little brown dragon made chirping noises.

“Yes, Berit, you found the boy from my stories. Do you like him?” The dragon happily spun in the air, and Arthur let out a painful breath.

“You died.”

“No, I was lost, and then I was found,” she said.

“Why didn’t you ever send word?” Arthur couldn’t turn and look at her. “How could you let Elyan and your father suffer?”

“Because it was Camelot, Arthur.” He could feel her moving closer, and he still wouldn’t look at her. “I was out in the woods, where we used to play. I always went there when I needed a bit of quiet. A small dragon was caught in a trap, and all of a sudden I wasn’t speaking English, dragon speak poured out of my mouth. I fell down in shock.” A hand was on his shoulder. “I freed the dragon and he lead me to Merlin. Merlin took one look at us, and opened his arms, said welcome home, and I felt more at peace than I had in a long time.”

“Gwen, it broke my heart when you couldn’t be found.” Arthur wiped the water off his face, because it certainly was just water from the pools and not tears.

“I have missed you, Arthur.” Arms closed around his back in a gentle hug. 

“Why didn’t you come see Elyan, me? You would have heard the instant we arrived.”

“I wasn’t here, I only just got back a couple hours ago from in the mountain, collecting ore. The minute I emerged, everyone was filling me in on the knights of Camelot. Wanted a bath, and then I was going to come to you.” 

Arthur slowly turned around, and looked at her. “Gwen,” he whispered. He reached out, but pulled his hand back. “Are you a dream?”

“No,” she smiled at him. “I’m a blacksmith.”

Arthur laughed at that. He drew her into a tight hug, ignoring the way her breasts pressed against him. “Gwen!”

“Can’t breathe,” she said after a moment, but he didn’t ease up the hold, until she found that spot in his side that only she ever could. He giggled and let go. “Nice to see that still works.”

“Gwen,” Arthur beamed at her. “You are real.” And utterly stunning. 

“I am.”

Arthur was about to say more, ask after her life but he heard footsteps approach. He quickly spun to shield her body from the intruder, even though she was covered by the shimmering and dark water. “Excuse me, a lady is bathing,” he snapped to the man. Arthur looked up at him and swallowed. “Um, yes, well -” he knew he was a bit flushed, but the man was gorgeous. And starting to strip. “I am sure there are other pools you could use.”

“Yes, but none of them have Gwen, my love,” he explained, and oh lord the man was fully nude now, completely uncaring that his cock was just there. Though fuck, if Arthur was hung like that, he’d probably be naked a lot more too. 

“Lancelot, I missed you,” Gwen’s voice was soft. “Terribly.”

Lancelot slid into the water, and went right passed Arthur. Arthur could hear kissing and decided it was time to leave the pool. He hoisted himself out of the water and tried off with a towel. He was just dressing when he saw Merlin come around the corner. “Gwen, you are back!”

“Merlin,” Arthur could hear the happiness in her voice. “The team was successful, we managed to find another thread of that ore. I have enough to make some excellent harnesses.”

“Wonderful. Arthur, Gwen is -”

“An old friend,” Arthur replied. He glanced over and the man was wrapped around her, his arm across her breasts. “A good friend.”

“A prince and a blacksmith’s daughter, that’s a bit odd isn’t it?” the man asked.

“My father thought so and forbade it.” Arthur hated that, but he had been a child and couldn’t go against the man. He finished pulling on his clothes. “Was there something that was needed, Merlin?”

“Oh, Gwaine seems to be all healed up. And is already poking about the training ring? There is a difference between healed, and well enough to practice with our men and dragons. Perhaps you could convince him that might be a little much?” Merlin was smiling. “I tried and he just asked for my favour, and that he would knock all our men down in my honour.”

Arthur groaned. “I apologize for him. He will be censured for his sexual…forthrightness to you. If you have said no to his flirting then he should stop.”

“Ah well, I haven’t actually said no,” Merlin was grinning. And his neck didn’t have that scarf that was usually around it. 

“Hmm,” Arthur squinted at him a bit. “You gave him your favour, but I am to stop him from proving himself worthy of it? I am not sure that is how this sort of thing is to work.”

“You are their prince, I am sure you can figure it out,” Merlin was rocking on his heels, completely unrepentant. 

“Are all the servants of the dragon clan as cheeky as you?” Arthur heard Gwen coughing, and turned to her. “Are you alright?”

“Just swallowed some water,” she said. “Merlin, missed you, join us?”

Arthur felt his jaw drop. “But the man called you his love, Gwen!” Because that had not been a casual sort of voice.

“Yes?” she smiled, “I am his, and he is mine, but sometimes…” Her voice trailed off.

“Sometimes what?” Arthur was thoroughly lost, and that Lancelot was kissing Gwen’s neck and it was very distracting to watch. And he could feel them all staring at him. “What?”

Merlin had a confusing look on his face, like he was measuring Arthur. “Gwen and Lancelot sometimes will invite another to their bed. I have been among those invited, though since I gave my favour to Gwaine, I am going to politely reject the offer.”

“So…I don’t understand.”

“Three people in bed, together,” Merlin said. “Making love. You are a prince of Camelot, and the stories of who Uther commands to his bed have well spread.”

Arthur paled a bit, at the thought of three in bed, and more at what his father might do in his chambers. Whispers that almost reached him, but never quite did. “I wouldn’t know. I am not married, and thus have not engaged in such.” Merlin’s gaze grew intense. “What?”

“You haven’t bedded anyone? And the king is fine with that?”

“I do not care if he is fine with it or not. Any woman I am arranged to wed will be expected to be a virgin as some sign of her honour, a conceit that is for other people and not herself. If she has to deal with that, I should meet her equally. I will not bed anyone I am not bound to by law and god. It is what is right.” Arthur waited for Merlin or the others to laugh at him, as a few before had. Oddly, Gwaine had never laughed and Arthur had been sure he would. And likewise no one here laughed. For a moment Arthur pictured what it would be like to live among the dragon clan, and it seemed like heaven. But the people needed him. “Excuse me, I seem to have a knight to sit on.”

“I’ll go back with you. Feast tonight, Gwen, Lancelot. You’ll sit with me?” Merlin smiled at them.

“Of course,” Lancelot replied with a small nod.

The respect in it confused Arthur, but he supposed it was more about Merlin turning down the affection, than the sit together at the feast. He followed Merlin to the training grounds and blinked. “Are they throwing trees?”

“Strength training,” Merlin explained. “And coordination. It needs to land straight.”

“What the fuck?” Arthur watched, and saw Gwaine inching over. “Gwaine!” he shouted and stormed over. There were three green dragons happily circling Gwaine’s feet, bigger than Berit, more like the wolf hounds that were in the royal kennels. Of course Gwaine had a gaggle of dragons following him and giving puppy eyes. Arthur moved in front him, and pointed a finger. “No.”

“I can manage, Merls there said I was all healed.” Gwaine was smiling but he was standing, weight on the uninjured leg, which wasn’t his usual stance. Merlin’s scarf was around his arm, fastened tightly. “Just want to play a little.”

“No, sit,” Arthur ordered.

“Princess, when have I ever listened when you get all royally?”

“I’m not -” Arthur made a face, “Please, Gwaine. You might be healed but that doesn’t mean you are ready to throw a bloody tree. I need you ready and able and at my side when the time comes for whatever it is that is coming our way. Don’t strain yourself.” He hoped Gwaine would listen. It was always a poor bet, though.

“Your highness,” Gwaine replied, and went over and sat on the benches. “But I am trying it before we leave!”

“That actually worked,” Arthur was a bit shocked, “he actually listened.”

“There is a good man, in there,” Merlin smiled at Gwaine, “I am to extend the invitation to the feast tonight. The dragon lord will greet you and hear your plea.”

Arthur didn’t know if a weight was lifted off his shoulders or doubled. He nodded. “Merlin?”

“Hmm?”

“People here seem happy. He is a good lord?”

“He certainly tries. No one can be a perfect ruler, and Balinor left a large legacy to fill. Do you know the position of Dragon Lord isn’t hereditary? Balinor’s son faced a few challengers for the throne.”

“Really?” Arthur was a bit surprised, “And he allowed them to live after?”

“Of course, it is our way. You have to prove you are a worthy ruler. And Emrys did.” 

“What should I offer to convince him to aid us? Whatever it is, I will pay,” Arthur looked at Merlin. “Gold, gems, my blood. Whatever will save my people I am happy to offer.”

“Don’t offer anything. Just present your need, simply, honestly,” Merlin said. “Be true to your heart Arthur Pendragon, not what Uther wants you to be, and all will be well.”

Arthur nodded and went to their tents. They all rested and talked, attempted to make plans for what would happen if they failed in securing the aid of the dragon clan. Gwaine joined them a pile of clothes in hand, “Traditional feast wear, I am told we should wear it. And Merlin suggested that coming to the feast unarmed would show our trust in the company we keep.”

All eyes were on Arthur, who just nodded. “If Merlin suggested, we’ll listen to him. He has taken care of us well during our stay here.” They dressed in the provided clothes which were well made, rich fabric warm for the cooling nights, and they left all their weapons on their cots. They walked to the centre space of the camp which was wide open and now had tables in it, a boar roasting in a fire pit. There was laughing and joy, dragons were all about. Berit settled on his shoulder.

Merlin saw them and waved, and Gwaine moved towards him eagerly. “Some decorum,” Arthur ordered, “we should present ourselves to the dragon lord first.” Arthur saw a chair at the center table, larger than the rest. Gwen and Lancelot were seated near it, and that woman who found them on the other side of it. Honestly he had sort of expected she was secretly the dragon lord. Gwen smiled at him, and waved at Elyan. She looked breathtaking. She stood and rounded the table.

“That’s Gwen,” Elyan stumbled. “Gwen, sitting at the dragon lord’s table.” He ran over, and the siblings were hugging and crying. There was a cheer from the crowd at seeing such a reunion. 

“You’ll be at this table,” Merlin explained. It was near the head table, a clear view of that empty chair. “When the dragon lord takes his chair, no one stands or bows, it is like anyone sitting. He will start the feast and then after, he will call people forward who have requests to make of him. When your name is called, you go stand in front of him, meet his gaze head on, no bowing or scraping. Honest, true, and you’ll be fine.”

Arthur nodded. “Merlin? You asked Gwen and Lancelot to join you but they sit at the head table. That is unkind, unless they had no choice. You can sit with us, can’t he?” All the men agreed and Gwaine was moving over, patting the bench hopeful that Merlin would be next to him.

“No, they are sitting with me, as I requested,” Merlin smiled at them. “Arthur? The king of Camelot would never receive aid from us. He is a cold man, bitter, consumed. I was very glad to learn that the Prince of Albion was a good man.”

Merlin’s voice was a bit different. He straightened and shouted in dragon tongue. And the largest dragon they had ever seen emerged from the top of the mountain and flew down, settled behind that empty throne.

“Holy shit,” Gwaine whispered. He touched the scarf he had tied over the arm of the clothes they were loaned. “No,” he breathed out.

Arthur didn’t say a word, just watched Merlin move over, and pet the massive dragon’s snout and then sit on the throne. He called something else out, and all the dragon clan cheered, and the earth shook with the calls of all the dragons that surrounded them. “Dragon clan, we formally welcome the knights of Camelot to our side, and let the feast begin.”

There were more cheers and his knights were at a complete loss. Merlin raised his goblet to them, and everyone in camp followed suit. Arthur raised his cup to Merlin, and then drank.

Well, then.

The servant was lord, here, and after they ate, he would follow what Merlin suggested, and what happened would happen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we switch to merlin's pov for the next three chapters

Merlin kept glancing over at the table with the men of Camelot. But to be fair, they kept glancing at him in between bites of food. Arthur wasn’t eating at all, just staring at him. “Merlin, this was a stupid plan,” Lancelot muttered, “we should have stopped you. We would have if Gwen was here to you know, actually do it.”

Merlin chuckled a bit. “Only as brave as your wife?”

“Yes,” Lancelot answered with an easy shrug, comfortable in that fact, “she’s the only one you actually listen to when you say _‘oh fuck, no this is actually brilliant_.’” 

Merlin took his eyes off the prince. “I listen to you.” He smiled at Lancelot who looked deeply unimpressed, “It is just that I get lost in your soft eyes and smoldering lips. Wait, no, that is supposed to be the other way around. See, I was so lost in your pretty I couldn’t even speak correctly.”

“It happens to me regularly,” Gwen leaned around Lancelot, “And why do they keep looking at you like that?” Her gaze flitted between Arthur and Merlin and was growing increasingly serious.

Merlin focused on his plate, because shit, Gwen didn’t actually know what he had done, and yeah there was no way would he have been allowed to lie like he had, if she had been home. He tossed a boar leg to Kilgharrah. He heard contented crunching and looked back over at the guest table. Arthur was still glaring, and Gwaine was looking at him with…something. He couldn’t pin it down. His hand went to his neck and the scarf wasn’t there, of course it wasn’t, he could see it around Gwaine’s arm. He saw Gwaine reach up and touch it. For a moment he was worried, that Gwaine would tear it off, but it stayed there.

“Merlin, what fool thing did you do?” Gwen’s voice was high enough that it reached the guest table. She was glancing at Gwaine’s arm, and Merlin’s neck. “Merlin! You did do something stupid, didn’t you?” 

“No,” Merlin made a face at her. “It was a sound plan.”

“Gwen, you do not yell at your lord,” Elyan said in shock from the table.

“I do when he is an idiot, I go away for a week, to find ore and you all lose your minds? I am not the dragon lord, but I might as well be with how much I seem to be left in charge,” she was glaring at all of them and her voice was carrying to all the closest tables. Her glare was molten as she stared at her husband, “What did I say before I left?”

“That you loved me, and when you touched yourself at night you would think of my tongue?” Lancelot brought her hand to his lips and pressed a lavish kiss to it. Merlin smiled at them and there were roars of encouragement. “That -”

“No the other thing,” but she didn’t pull her hand away.

“That in training, I forget to cover my right?” He was smiling, trying to distract her with his beauty, but she was a woman on a mission and wouldn't lose focus.

Gwen closed her eyes, “the other thing?”

Lancelot laughed loudly, and Merlin heard at least one happy sigh from the crowd. “Oh the, if Merlin gets a clever idea, sit on him until he gives up on said clever idea.”

“Yes, that thing.”

“No, look it was actually brilliant,” Merlin complained, and everyone at the table snorted a bit. “It was!” 

“Explain,” Gwen ordered.

“Kilgharrah, told me to test Arthur!” Merlin nodded, “He did, didn’t you?” He looked at his dragon, ready to be defended for his very clever plan.

“Young warlock, I told you to be cautious of a prince of Camelot, and that seeing if there was any goodness in his heart would not be remiss,” the grand dragon said, “I did not suggest that Emrys of Balinor, of Rhysus, of Elaine, of Aiden, of -”

“Yes, I know my bloody family line,” Merlin snapped. “And I did find out if there was goodness in his heart. It is the best bloody heart I’ve ever seen, and I’m friends with Gwen.”

“Merlin,” she sighed, “I know he has a good heart. He was the first man that was not kin that I loved, and he was worthy of that love.”

Merlin saw Arthur flinch a bit. He didn’t like hearing that. Why? This was their past and he shouldn’t interfere. But he wanted to understand that flinch. “Arthur, approach,” Merlin called over. There was a moment of quiet, and then the whispers began. Merlin ignored them. Arthur stood and approached. He did not bow, or drop to a knee, but looked Merlin dead in the eye, like Merlin had told him to. “You flinched, why?”

“Merlin that is too far,” Gwen said firmly.

“Because I wasn’t worthy of her love. If I was, I would have defied my father.”

“We were twelve,” Gwen replied. Merlin saw her reach for Lancelot’s hand, and that he held her close. “How could you have defied your father?”

“I could have,” Arthur insisted, “I missed you, I would see you, working in the kitchens, I would linger just to make sure you were treated well, and you would smile, and I missed you. And then you were gone.” 

It hurt to look at the heartache in the prince.

“When I found Gwen, she wanted to go back, to let everyone know she was alive, but she said she couldn’t, that her brother, her father, and her best friend, would move heaven and earth to bring her home, to keep her safe from Uther. And she couldn’t do that to them. She cried for months over not telling her family, her best friend that she was alive and safe, but it was to protect them. She never said who her best friend was.”

“I knew my father would marry me to someone for land, but if I imagined that day, she always had Gwen's face,” Arthur smiled sadly, “Such a foolish thing.”

“No, it speaks to your heart,” Merlin looked at him. “A heart you were starting to forget that you had. And then you found dragons under Camelot, and it cracked wide open again.”

“Is that the pain I’ve been feeling since I saw them?” Arthur tried to laugh but it was a harsh sound, with little humour in it. “Why did you pretend to be a servant?”

“Because Uther is miserable to his servants,” Merlin said. “He is unrelenting to those he considers beneath him. Aithusa came and told us of you on the path, and I thought, the prince of Camelot, dealing with the stress of needing the aid of the dragon speakers, an injured knight, away from all comfort? If I said I was the dragon lord, you would have been all geniality and nobility and all that. But who were you to an apprentice healer, a servant sent to care for you? Then, in that, we would have the true measure of you. And I did learn that. Ask me what you came here for, Prince Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur looked at him, “There is a sleeping dragon nest under Camelot. Not in the tunnels under the keep, but under lower town. I didn’t even know there were tunnels there, but there are four adults and one baby sleeping under there. If they slept forever it could be fine, but I don’t know that they will.” Merlin watched Arthur take a deep breath, whatever he would say next was going to hurt him. “The king if he knew, would order men into the tunnels to kill them. It would be a slaughter, of my men, _my men_ ,” that was an interesting emphasis, “ _my people_ , and of the dragons.”

“Why your people?” 

“Because I am their prince? I am sworn to protect all the people of Camelot whether noble or peasant.”

Merlin smiled, at the earnestness in Arthur's voice, “No, why would they die?”

Gwaine stood and moved to Arthur’s side. “He wouldn’t have known about the caves, because they are smuggler warrens. Old ones, that move through and under refuse pits, the bones of the dead, a million things. They are an old system, and old can mean sturdy, or it can mean fragile. If we were ordered to engage the dragons, under there? The wrong knock to a tunnel wall, we are buried, the dragons are buried, half of lower town would crumple into the earth.”

“And you would care that the poor die?”

Arthur snarled a bit, “They are innocent people who are under my protection!”

“Uther would consider them a reasonable sacrifice for removing anything magical or mythic from the kingdom.”

“My father is not a well man, my sister hides secrets and anger, and I am all that stands between the people and chaos. And I will stand. And I stand before you, Dragon Lord Emrys, begging your aid.”

“We are not to step foot in Camelot,” Merlin said, “Your father -”

“I don’t care,” Arthur said and he paled. Merlin wondered if that was the first time he had ever said something like that. “I am in charge of the knights of Camelot, the ones who found the dragons. And you would be under my protection for a particular task. I would not let any of you sent to Camelot come to harm. On my life, it is sworn.”

“Sire,” Leon protested from the table.

Arthur held up a hand, and the knight quieted. Gwaine moved back to the table and Arthur stood there, the fires highlighting his blond hair, his cheekbones. Merlin smiled as Berit swooped down and settled on Arthur’s shoulder and nuzzled the prince. Berit’s breed were good judges of people, and more Gwen was. Merlin looked to her and she gave a nod. Merlin looked over to Kilgharrah who also nodded an agreement.

“The dragon lord will not aid Uther Pendragon, we will never aid him, or bow to him, or offer him grace and welcome at our table,” Merlin called out, his voice deep a bit of his magic in it, as he was making a promise. He could see Arthur’s eyes ready to shatter and he leaned forward, “But the dragon clan offers aid, supplies, respite, and whatever else may be needed to Prince Arthur Pendragon, the true heart of Camelot, and his knights as well. I will travel with you to Camelot to move the dragons below your city. You, Arthur Pendragon are worthy of our help.” Merlin wondered when the last time he had been told he was worthy was. Probably a very long time. Arthur was standing there, so rigid, Merlin marveled that he didn’t break. Merlin held out his arm across the table. “We are your brothers, Arthur. Take my arm in agreement.”

Merlin waited, and then Arthur clasped his arm. His magic flared for a moment and all Merlin could think was that was not great, and he heard Freya curse next to him. Which really wasn’t good.

“What was that?” Arthur asked looking at their hands.

“Nothing, we should let the feast continue,” Merlin said. 

“Do we leave for Camelot come dawn?” Arthur looked like he was ready to head out now.

“No, some decisions still have to be made. Who will go, what might be needed, payment.” Merlin settled back into his chair and notice his plate licked clean. He glared a bit at his dragon who blew smoke at him and flew back into the mountain. He took Lancelot’s plate. “Thank you,” he said and started eating that. Arthur was still just standing there. “Go sit, eat, enjoy the night,” he urged.

“How can I partake in revelry when even now my people might be harmed?”

“I told you, sleeping nest until the babe is grown, you have time,” Merlin promised. Arthur didn’t look convinced. “Freya?”

“I need his blood,” Freya replied.

“Arthur, she doesn’t need a lot, to cast but -” Arthur had already used a knife from the table, and sliced his arm. “You are really intense,” Merlin muttered. The knife was handed to Freya and she ran a finger through the blood and drew a pattern on the table.

“Camelot is safe from the dragons,” she said, “They will not wake unless prodded for nine moons.”

Merlin wondered if Arthur caught the inflection in Freya’s voice, but from the relief on his face, he guessed not. There was no reason he should, he didn’t know Freya. But Merlin did and he knew what she meant. Camelot was safe from the dragons, but not something else. “There you go,” Merlin replied, “Freya is our oracle, connected deeply to the old gods, she sees time in a way most of us don’t. You can trust her word.”

Arthur gave Freya a bow. “My thanks.” He returned to his table and finally ate. Merlin waited until Arthur’s men had him well distracted. “Freya?”

“We need to keep them here for at least three moons. If Arthur returns too soon, things that are in motion will be stopped.”

“And?”

Freya looked at him, and Merlin knew that look. “There are two paths. He goes back, Uther lives and war comes for magic. It will be bloody and Arthur will fulfill a destiny he does not want. If he stays here, if we let Uther die, Camelot will suffer a bit, but the world will be better.”

“He should have the choice,” Merlin protested. “We can’t take that away from him.”

“You know what he will choose.”

“Maybe, but still, Freya, it is his path, not ours.”

“In the dawn after I talk to the gods, let whatever they say shape whether he is told or not.”

That was fair, because not like anything could be done at night anyways. Merlin finished eating and soon the music started. People started dancing and games were broken out. Dragons were moving through the people or staying on the edges. He went around and made sure that his people and the creatures were all content. Every time he approached where people were dancing he was pushed away and he laughed. Merlin found himself at the table with their guests. “May I sit?”

Elyan had left and was sitting next to Gwen, as they shared what their lives had been like apart. He saw Arthur’s eyes constantly stray to Gwen, and there was such a mix of emotions in there. But Merlin noticed that Arthur sometimes wasn’t staring at Gwen so much as Lancelot’s arm around her, or Lancelot’s mouth. Wasn’t that interesting? There was a nudge against his arm and Merlin grinned. “Hello, Gwaine.”

“Merls,” Gwaine reached up and touched the scarf around his arm. “Now that your trick is up, you should have this back.” He untied it and placed it in Merlin’s hands. It was warm, and felt wrong against his skin.

“I didn’t want it back.”

“Yes, you did,” Gwaine replied firmly. “I don’t like nobility, and I don’t like being lied to.”

Merlin nodded and decided to leave. He honestly hadn’t expected Gwaine to react like that, the conversations they had had, suggested a jovial man, who would enjoy a bit of a tumble regardless of minor details like rather thoroughly lying and tricking the knights of Camelot. Okay, maybe he understood why the man was upset. He left the camp and walked a bit up the mountain path and settled into a favourite nook of his. He heard a squeak and saw a baby poke its head out of one of the warren holes. “Hello,” he said, “need a cuddle?” The dragon wiggled out of its nest and rested against his chest. That wasn’t enough though, and it wormed in under his shirt. He smiled as the head rested against his heart. Merlin spoke to it a bit, stroked a hand down its back. “You are going to grow big and strong,” he whispered in dragon speak. “Are you eating your bones?” There was a little chirrup against his. “Good, good,” he crooned. He hummed a bit and the dragon slowly fell asleep. This one would be going for its growth hibernation soon.

He stood and eased the wee dragon back into its burrow. Merlin went and sat dangling his legs over the side of the mountain. He heard footsteps, and figured it was Gwen checking on him, but he quickly realized that they were too heavy for that. Arthur instead came and sat next to him. “This is incredibly safe.”

“If I fall my magic, or a dragon will catch me.”

“So, not just dragon lord, full out sorcerer.”

“I like warlock,” Merlin offered. He looked out into the distance. “I had to know who you really were.”

“My men have very mixed feelings on it,” Arthur dug his hands into the ground a bit, like it would stop him from falling off, “I understand though.”

“Do you?”

“It is an advantage to get a read on your opponent especially when they are unaware they are being seen.” Arthur was nodding, “It is a common battle field tactic.”

“Not been on a lot of battle fields,” Merlin had to admit. “A few? Not much of a fighter.”

“But you are their leader, you have to be able to defend your people.”

“Arthur, I have magic, and a grand dragon.”

“Oh, right, what do you need a sword for, with all that?”

“My father taught me a little, and Lancelot occasionally tries to insist I should learn more. But it always feels wrong in my hand.” Merlin cast and a flame danced in his hand for a moment. “This feels right.”

He looked to Arthur. “Have you even seen magic in use before?”

Arthur shook his head, “I mean yes. It has been used against me in battle. It, Father says, it is wrong.”

“What do you say?” Merlin put out the flame and then cast so that a few pebbles moved through the air, danced about. “Does this seem scary?”

“Suppose you could fling those at my eyes, blind me, push me over the mountain.”

Merlin let them drop back down. “You’ve given me no reason to harm you.” He sighed, “Magic is just a tool like your sword. Do you fear that?”

“No, I am in control of it.”

“Do you think I am not in control of my magic?” Merlin countered, “You understand that we are taught to wield it the same way you wield that sword. It is only when people are taught to fear their magic, consider it a curse that it twists in them. It is a gift, and if you reject it, you’ll rot from the inside out. When Uther rails against magic and feels he is right because of what is used against Camelot, what he doesn’t see is that he brought that on himself.”

“Rot?”

“If you didn’t practice what would happen to your martial skills?” Merlin started moving the pebbles again. “You’d become a poor soldier. Now if you didn’t want to practice, were done being a knight you’d be fine with that. But what if you were forced to stop, coerced to never use or tap into that part of yourself?”

“I would be angry, I would think.”

“It is a wound that you pick at again and again, and eventually it becomes infected. You can feel it in a person when they are corralling their magic against their desires. They grow cold, there is this rage that just pours out of them, and then a crackle of energy as they slowly start to crack a part.” Merlin looked over at Arthur. The man was pale and he was trembling. “Arthur!”

“My adopted sister, Morgana. Oh god, is that, is that what has been happening?” Arthur’s eyes were wild. “She - she might have magic. And she is with my father.”

In an instant Merlin understood how Uther would die if they didn’t interfere, and for a moment, god, he relished that. But also, it wasn’t even certain. “Or, she could be angry because of an arranged marriage plan or such,” Merlin said. “We can see if Freya can learn anything.”

“Handy having a Freya,” Arthur gave a shaky laugh.

“Not that handy, tends to get stroppy that I don’t respect the old gods more. But they are old, what do they know?” Merlin nudged his shoulder against Arthur’s. “It will be alright.”

“Will it?” Arthur reached out and touched the pebbles that were spinning around in the air. “Because I am not magic, or a prophet, but I can feel that something is coming for me. Things are going to change.”

Merlin nodded because he could feel it too. “So, tell me what was Gwen like as a child? Share something humiliating.”

“She had short hair, these curls that would bounce when she was angry,” Arthur reminisced, and the two lords stayed up far too late talking. 


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin yawned a bit, and Freya turned and glared at him. He smiled, and yawned again. “Merlin! This is sacred,” she snapped.

“If the gods didn’t want to hear my yawns, they shouldn’t need to converse at bloody dawn,” Merlin replied. He adjusted the furs over his shoulders a bit. He heard a snort of laughter, and looked over at Gwaine who had clearly made the noise. He smiled hopefully, but Gwaine just straightened his features and looked elsewhere.

Arthur had requested that all his men be along for this ceremony and Freya had had no objections, said that the gods would in all chance prefer to get the whole view they could of Camelot. Gwen and Lancelot stood at Merlin’s side as they usually did, Lancelot had his arms wrapped around Gwen to keep her warm from the morning chill. They stood in a circle around Freya, well away from the cliff’s edge. 

“Merlin, you know how difficult this is,” she chided.

Merlin’s eyes glowed, and with a bare gesture all the torches were lit. “I do,” he said. He waited, they were both waiting, and then the wind shifted, just a bit, just enough. It was time. He stepped forward and held out his hands to her. “Freya, our oracle, we stand before you, seeking the knowledge that only you can communicate. We would aid Camelot, it is our will, our desire to do so. But I do not set the price on our tasks, it is for the old gods to guide us. And for you to speak with them. Do you do this willingly?”

“Willingly?” Arthur chimed in.

“Shh, we can watch, but not participate,” Gwen told him. “No matter what you see.”

“What might we see?” Elyan whispered.

“It depends,” was all Gwen would say.

“I do this willingly. I do so trust my fate to the old gods, and my life to my dragon lord,” Freya said. Gwen stepped forward and Freya slipped out of her cloak and then her dress. Gwen took the garments and Merlin looked over at the knights. Arthur was staring intently out into the pale dawn sky, Leon at the ground. The rest staring at the gorgeous naked woman, which was fair, and he was fairly certain they were staring at the markings that covered her. She cast her magic out, and the tattoos that covered her body, began to move, scars on her shoulder blades had ghost wings appear out of them. Merlin called out in the old dragon tongue with her, and for a moment everything seemed to go still. They smiled at each other, golden eyes met in the understanding that only the dragon lord and his oracle share. Freya gave a small nod, and then Merlin cast outward and pushed her off the mountain.

He ignored Arthur’s shout and that he started to rush forward as if he could somehow save her. The other knights all pulled out their swords ready to fight. Except Gwaine; Gwaine, he noticed was just watching him. Merlin went to the center of the fire ring and cast so that the flame leapt out of the torches and formed a full circle. No one could reach him and he drew a careful symbol into the ground. He then shouted out again in the old tongue and cast his magic into the mountain itself. He vaguely heard Gwen reassuring the knights, but couldn’t pay attention to that right now. He called to the gods, and waited. Prayed. 

He heard the call of a dragon and looked up. It was red, and brilliant, and set down in the flames which all went out.

“That - Sire - that dragon looks like your herald,” Leon commented. Merlin could hear the fear in his voice.

“It does,” Arthur agreed. “Merlin? Do I approach?”

“No,” Merlin’s voice shook. “Stay back until I heal her.”

“Her?”

Merlin cast on the dragon and it was fighting him. Hard. But he hadn’t failed Freya yet, and he wouldn’t now. Today was not the day the gods claimed her. He screamed and brought his hands together and thrust them apart, and all the Pendragon red snapped off her and Freya swayed, human again. “The gods have given the price,” she said and collapsed. Merlin pulled his magic back into himself and lay down near her. They both started to laugh, the euphoria of the intense magic coursing through them. 

“Red does not suit you,” he told her as he began to hiccup from the giggles, which just made her laugh more.

“Up you get,” he could hear Lancelot say as he gently picked up Freya, and Gwen draped the cloak over her. “Let’s us take you to the pools, and then you can share what was learned.”

“Pendragons, it’s funny, that Uther hates dragons when he is one. Isn’t it funny?” Freya giggled. “He is a dragon, his heir is a dragon, and his daughter is a witch. Everything he hates is the destiny of Camelot. And it couldn’t have happened any funnier!”

That set Merlin off again, and he curled into a ball, to try to stop the laughing. 

“Is this what magic does to a person, I’ve had to smoke very specific weeds to gain this much laughter.”

“Gwaine, we have some of that. If I give it to you, can we flirt again?” Merlin looked up, and Gwaine was crouched next to him. “Your eyes get all crinkly around them when you smile. I like the crinkles. They go crinkle crinkle. I think I can hear them.”

“What is wrong with him?” Arthur sounded so confused and lost. The lost prince. But he wasn't lost, they had found him, and that was nice.

“My oracle turned into a dragon!” Merlin beamed at Arthur, “And if I wasn’t super strong in my magic, she would stay as one - a price the gods demand. But as good a dragon lord I am, I am even better with magic. Almost was the oracle, but you know.”

“I don’t?” Arthur sounded even more confused. Which was weird everyone knew how oracles worked. Except apparently, Arthur didn't.

“Oh, you don’t know, that is so sad. I’m so sorry.” Merlin felt his eyes fill. “You should know! You aren’t completely dreadful!” He sniffled a bit. “We can get you an oracle, or turn you into one. It is only really painful, and traumatic, and will one day take your life. But you are Uther’s child, so I mean you life already has probably been painful and traumatic.”

“And I think you need in the pools, as well.”

Merlin looked around, “Father?”

“No,” Gwaine turned his head, and Merlin realized it was Gwaine who was talking. “Don’t be so adorable.”

“I’m not. I have big ears.”

“They are fairly adorable big ears,” Gwaine said, and then he stood and Merlin was standing to, and then he wasn’t. 

“Am I flying?” Merlin liked flying but Kilgharrah didn’t let him do it often. Meanie old grand dragon. 

“I am carrying you to your tent, so you can sleep this, whatever it is, off,” Gwaine said.

“No, need the pools, and then find out what you have to pay us. One time it was a half dead goat.” Merlin leaned against Gwaine’s shoulder. “Balinor was so mad, it took a dozen of our men to fight in that battle and only eight came back and all the payment was, was a half dead goat.”

“That you nursed back to health, and it sired a dozen goats and now your whole flock is thanks to that goat?”

Merlin laughed, “Nope it was a half dead fainting goat, and it fainted and fell off the side of a cliff and died.” He jolted a bit as Gwaine stopped walking. “What?”

“Really, there was no grand cosmic reasoning for that goat?”

“Oh, of course there was, just you know it needed to die first.” Merlin giggled. “The gods always have a reason for what they say to take for payment. Shortest is well right away, gold is gold. Longest is…31 years 5 moons and 12 days.” He almost laughed more, but then yawned. “I sleep now.” He closed his eyes and drifted off, trusting Gwaine’s embrace in a way that surprised him. He awoke a few hours later, in his tent, and alone. Merlin sat up and stretched, felt almost normal. He would have stepped to the ground but as always there were a half dozen dragons on the floor of his tent. “Along with you,” he told them, and they all ignored him. “I am your dragon lord,” he reminded them. When one stretched up, Merlin picked it up. “Ooh getting heavy there.” He moved the dragon to his shoulder, and its hibernation had helped it grow, the torso fit around his shoulders but the tail now draped to his wrist, the head rested at the crux of his elbow. He adjusted the weight and left the tent. 

He could hear clashing from the fighting grounds and went over, saw the knights of Camelot scrapping with Lancelot and his men. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. Gwaine was in the fray but at least not tossing cabers or the like. Instead he was showing a few of his sword moves to the men who were sharing in kind. Merlin wanted to watch but he was needed elsewhere. He wandered through camp, checked on people, helped Gaius with a few patients, checked on Gwen at her forge.

“Good?” he asked.

“Good,” Gwen agreed. “Elyan is incredible. It is good to have him again.”

“And Arthur?”

Gwen didn’t look up from where she was pounding steel flat. “Is a memory.”

“Gwen -”

“Merlin -” 

They looked at each other. “I should check on Freya,” Merlin decided, and Gwen just ignored him for his work. He went to Freya’s tent and she was busy writing what she had been told on sheepskin. It meant that she would soon be ready to share what she had seen, been told. “Are you well?”

“I am,” she said, and dipped her fingers directly into the ink and traced symbols onto the leather. “There, if we are worthy, we will understand in time.”

“Shit, we’re getting a half dead goat again,” Merlin groaned. “He’s a Pendragon, he has tons of gold, we could have gold or gems, and we’re going to get a half dead goat.” He held out his hand for the sheepskin, but she didn’t give it over. “Freya?” 

“It is to be told to all our people, and the visitors from Camelot at the same time. At least the first part, and then the second in private to a few.”

“Who?”

“You, Gwen, Lancelot, Arthur, and Gwaine.”

“Very well,” Merlin agreed and he looked at her. He moved closer, but didn’t look at the skin. He brushed the tear off her cheek. “That bad?”

“That much. I love you, Merlin.”

“I love you too,” he swore. “You know I will never blame you, you are a conduit, not the designer of the payment.” He pressed their foreheads together. “My heart.”

“My lord,” she smiled. “Your father wanted us to marry.”

“My father also wanted to eat strawberries, and he was allergic.”

“He was a good man, a good dragon lord.” She gripped his wrists tightly, “And if you leap, you will become greater than any before or after.” She was almost drawing blood. “Leap, Emrys, leap.”

“I will,” he promised the old gods, that still whispered out of her. “I swear I will leap, if you let go of her for now.” The centuries vanished from the furrows in her brow and she was wholly Freya again. “I’ll go gather the clan.” 

Merlin called to the people and word quickly spread. They were small, less than a hundred people, and gathering was easy. He gestured for Arthur to step forward. “Freya spoke to the gods this morning, and it seems we are going to be getting a half dead goat again.” There were groans and laughter from the crowd, and he joined in a bit. “Honestly I don’t know, but she did say that all those in camp were to hear what the payment was to be.” 

“Is this common?” Arthur asked. “We are happy to pay, no matter what the old gods say.”

“You don’t believe?” Merlin looked at Arthur. “Not even a little?”

“I am no Druid.”

“But you do believe in possibility.”

“I suppose I do.”

Merlin would have pressed a bit, but the crowd murmurs were quieted as Freya stepped lightly through them. She was in her formal robes, and carrying the sheepskin. He had done away with a great deal of these formalities since he had taken over. It all signaled it definitely would not be a half dead goat. She had her golden ropes around her arms. They had always looked so beautiful on her. Merlin knelt before her, for what was a lord next to a deity?

“Emrys,” she said and lifted up his head. “Leap,” she whispered.

He stood next to her and waited.

She smiled at everyone. “The gods have spoken, and the price has been named. Prince Arthur, this must seem strange to you.”

“I have seen many strange things. I have seen Gwaine’s feet.” The crowd laughed at that. “I have - I have also seen things I could never explain and I have felt…guided in the dark once or twice, when my courage would have faltered.”

Freya nodded. “We could set a price ourselves, but we trust to that outside our understanding of the world to guide us. Dragons, magic, we are connected to something larger, and so we ask it to guide us. Even if it is to a half dead goat. We understand that the strands of fate connect us all.”

“And what of free will?” Arthur asked.

“Paths are laid before us. We chose which one we walk.” She lifted the sheepskin high, “In the time of magic, it faces a crossroads. It will flourish or flounder, it will heal or harm, and that choice lies in the red dragon.”

“My father,” Arthur looked pained.

“No, Arthur, you are the true dragon, the red dragon. The Pendragon. You said you would pay any price. The cost of our help is high. It is your life.”

Merlin didn’t respond, those his fist clenched. Because that was not right. That was not the way. 

“I give it willingly,” Arthur lifted his sword, and held it over his arm, hilt first to Freya. “For my people, I give my life willingly.”

“So ready to die. The price, dear prince, is to live.” Freya looked to the sheepskin again. “The gods do declare that now is the time of the dragon if we dare reach for it. If Pendragon wants our aid, then the fate of Camelot and the fate of the dragon clan must be united. The bonds of blood and life will be joined between two of Camelot and three of ours. Promise to stand together, and no power shall ever stand against either. Refuse and it is the doom of Albion, and of magic.”

“Fuck, I wish it was a goat,” Merlin whispered. He knew why Freya said she wanted to see them in private. He and Arthur would wed, and Gwaine would join Gwen and Lancelot, it made sense. And for the safety of his people he would accept. “I do so accept,” he called out.

“And I as well. I proudly join my people with yours,” he told Merlin. 

The crowd cheered and Freya began to walk. She smiled at Gwen and Lancelot, and they fell in line behind her. Merlin leaned into Arthur. “Put the sword away, gather Gwaine, and meet us at Freya’s tent.” Merlin walked, head high as his people clapped and bowed. In the tent, Freya was pouring wine and he drank his glass dry. She smiled and poured another. Merlin sat on her cot, and waited. 

Arthur and Gwaine joined them, and Freya gestured to the bench in the corner. “Arthur, I have to ask you an important question.”

“I will answer if I can.”

“You are a prince of Camelot. Do you want to be king?”

“I was born to it.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“No. I want to lead my men, and protect my people. But the politics and etiquette, the lies in words that I don’t understand. I am not meant for that. But what choice is there?”

“There is a choice. But it is a difficult one.” Freya sat next to him. She cupped his cheek and the empathy in her gaze was painful to all gathered. “Arthur, we now have to give you a heavy burden. Your people, or your king. There are two paths, one saves your people and one saves your king. And you have to decide.”

“You ask too much.”

“She doesn’t, fate, the gods, many things, but not her,” Merlin replied. He looked at Freya. “If Arthur and I wed, it changes everything right?”

“It changes things,” Freya agreed, “the wrong things.”

“I’m sorry?” Merlin was confused.

“The gods foretold, that first love becomes last love, that Arthur learn more about himself than you would be able to give.”

“I don’t understand,” Arthur looked around, “I always knew I would have a political marriage. Merlin seems better than I had expected.”

“Merlin is to be bound to Gwaine, and you, Prince Arthur, will be bound to Lancelot and Gwen.”

Merlin had to admit that he had not expected that. 

“I’ll be what now?” Arthur looked at Gwen and Lancelot. “Huh?”

Merlin looked at Gwaine, who wasn’t reacting at all. 

“Arthur if you want to save Camelot, you and your men will stay at the camp with our people for three moons. It will bring you immense personal pain, and your return to Camelot will be fraught. You will mourn and hurt, and always wonder what would have happened if you returned right away.”

“What would happen if I returned right away?”

“War, cruelty, a darkness on the land. If you go now, Camelot will never be what it could.” Freya looked at him. “Can your heart hold that pain, for your people. For your sister?”

“You said she is a witch.”

“I did.”

“Is she - is her magic rotting her? If I went back now could I save her?”

“No, you want to save her, your best chance is in three moons with your partners at your side.”

Merlin watched Arthur close his eyes and take a few breaths. When He opened his eyes, Merlin didn’t see a prince, but a future king.

“For Camelot,” Arthur said with a small nod, “We rest with you for three moons, and I will wed Gwen and Lancelot if they will have me.”

“We will,” Lancelot agreed.

“It isn’t enough for just them to be bound, a chain needs multiple links to hold true.”

Merlin looked to Gwaine. “I would bind myself to Gwaine for the good of my people and of Camelot.”

Gwaine smirked a bit. “Well, I’d look like a complete asshole if I said no at this point. So fine, guess I’ll marry you Merlin.”

“The price is met and will be paid,” Freya said.

The mountain seemed to roar. “I swear that is just my dragon finding food, not a weird portent or anything,” Merlin promised them. It roared again and the ground shook. "Fuck, why couldn't it have been a goat?" Merlin sighed.


	6. Chapter 6

Merlin left the tent and headed up the mountain. He lit a torch and went into the tunnels, some carved by time and water, some by people. He paused as he always did to look at the paintings on the walls, from a time impossibly long ago. He traced a finger almost touching the dragons paint there, and then continued through the windings paths until he reached the hollow in the mountain. He sat on the ledge, and put the torch in the holder. “Hello, Kilgharrah.”

“Young Warlock.”

“Do you know?”

“I do,” he said. “The will of the gods spreads through all of us before it crosses your oracle’s mind. It is…interesting.”

“Why couldn’t it have been a half dead goat?”

“Because after all the betrayal and heartache Camelot has caused, do you really think the gods would make it easy for them?” Kilgharrah folded his front legs, and leaned forward. “Did you really think you could mock the gods as you do, and have things remain easy for you?”

“Yes?” Merlin tried, and his dragon just gave him a look. “No,” Merlin sighed. “Still, after everything, how can binding our fate to Camelot be good?”

“Because, I do believe Arthur is good. You have dreamed of him your whole life, have you not? Your destiny is tied to his, Merlin.”

“Then why were we not the ones that the gods said should be bound together?”

“That I do not know,” Kilgharrah replied. “It intrigues me.”

Merlin didn’t like that. His dragon was, to put it mildly, an asshole. He loved the creature, but he had been alive a very long time and that meant he enjoyed being cryptic and a great mystery. Centuries unbound to a dragon speaker until Merlin had found him one day sleeping in the mountain and had called to him. His first call, the dragon had laughed in his face. And his second, when he put his whole heart into it, Kilgharrah responded and they were bound together. It had ill suited them at the start, but they had settled into their relationship as well as they could, and better they had thought it would be that first day. “You being intrigued tends to mean things are going to get rough.” The last time he had been intrigued, Balinor had died and he had been made dragon lord. “What do you think of Gwaine?”

“He is a fool.”

Merlin nodded. To Kilgharrah, most humans looked like fools, but he was sure the old dragon would say more if he just waited. He sat there, and waited, and it was taking longer than he expected, but he would wait.

“You could use a fool.”

Merlin smiled a bit. “Could I?”

“I remember when you smiled, young warlock. It would be nice if you did it again.” With that Kilgharrah flew off and up out of the mountain.

“I smile plenty,” Merlin said into the cavern. He sat there for a bit, enjoying the quiet before he nodded and started to make his way back down the mountain. He ignored his tent and went to his mother. “I smile,” he said after he asked permission to enter. 

“Yes?” Hunith was sewing some furs, the shape currently incomprehensible, but eventually it would be a thing of beauty. 

“Thank you,” Merlin nodded. He was right, his dragon was wrong.

“Not like how you did as a child, but who does?” She continued sewing. Hunith was humming a bit as she worked and Merlin found himself settling in. It was a lullaby that he remembered, that all the children knew, of the dragons that watched over them in their dreams. He found himself humming along a bit, soothed by the comforting tune. “Preparing wedding furs for you,” she said when she finished. “And your man.”

“Gwaine is mad at me.”

“It is not unexpected with how you lied to them.” Merlin watched her hands move steadily, swiftly through the pelt. 

“Arthur has forgiven me,” Merlin had to point out.

“He understands the strategy of it all, one leader to another. Gwaine isn’t a leader though.” Hunith looked at him. “How do you think Lancelot would have felt if Gwen pulled such a trick?”

Merlin made a bit of a face. “It was important to find out the truth of the Prince of Camelot.”

“It was, but did you have to flirt with one of his knights?”

Merlin shrugged, “He flirted first?” He winced at the look she gave him, because a boy never quite got over a look of disappointment from his mother. “I know. I know,” he said sincerely when the look didn’t stop. The eyebrow of judgment slowly lowered and he breathed a little bit easier, annoyed that the look still had such power over him. “Arthur mentioned that Gwaine had been forced into service to Camelot, and now the gods will that he wed me. I could defy destiny?”

“Can you?”

Merlin sighed, “It is difficult.”

“Not impossible, but I would think before you make anymore dramatic choices, you should talk to the man in question?” She tied off the thread, “come here,” she ordered and draped the furs over his shoulders. “Hmm,” she said. “You keep filling out more.” She adjusted the furs a bit more. “There, good. Very handsome. Like your father.”

“I wish he was here,” Merlin whispered and leaned into the touch to his cheek. “He’d sort all this out.”

“No, he wouldn’t, because it is your path, my love. And you choose how you walk it. I loved Balinor, but you knew your father. How do you think he would have reacted if he was here?”

“He would laugh at me,” Merlin smiled a bit, “Revenge for me laughing about the goat.”

She took the furs off his shoulders. “Go talk to your young man.” 

Merlin swayed, but didn’t move his feet. “Sorry, seem to be stuck to the ground here, magic. Destiny. Can’t fight it.” It was what he used to say to get out of cleaning dishes, or collecting firewood. It didn’t work then, and it didn’t work now. His mother whistled and her aging dragon woke up and nipped at his calves and he started moving. “Fine, look I am free.”

“Go, talk to Gwaine,” she pushed him until he was out of the tent, “and if you don’t, no fruit after dinner!” A half dozen people heard that and Merlin was pretty sure he should act like the dragon lord, all in charge or something.

“I lead the clan, you can’t deny me dessert,” he shouted back to his mother. She just snorted and raised that damn eyebrow. “Yes, ma’am, going to communicate with Gwaine.”

He hurried through camp and playfully shoved a couple of his men who were clearly laughing at him. A few dragons were circling in the air and were wheezing. He called to them that it wasn’t nice to laugh at their lord, and they flew away, still doing as close as dragons could to laughing. He would have railed at the lack of respect, but it honestly made him happy that his people teased him. Balinor was a welcoming lord but always a little distant, and that wasn’t how he could live. He had too much of his mother in him, and wanted to be a part of everything, not distant. 

“Merlin,” Lancelot was approaching and he had two swords in his hands. “Lesson time.”

Merlin cast wind to knock Lancelot over, but the man braced himself and stayed upright. “See? You rely on things too much, and look I was prepared.”

“Because I don’t want to kill my friend, though, I might be reconsidering that stance,” Merlin grumbled. Lancelot gave him a look. “Why is everyone breaking out their Merlin behave faces today?”

“Gee, I wonder,” Lancelot said. He held out the sword and Merlin took it. “Good leader.”

“Shut up,” Merlin walked beside him. “Are you…are you fine?” They stopped, “I mean -”

Lancelot cupped his neck, and pressed their foreheads together. “For our people, I am fine.”

“For yourself? Because my beautiful and noble knight, you deserve that too.” Merlin always complimented Lancelot in absurd ways, because when the man had come to them, he had been abused and beaten by life, made to kill for some bastard noble’s whims. He had escaped and stumbled through the woods, mostly dead just wanting freedom when he perchanced into their camp. Lancelot had lied and said he was a knight, and if they aided him, his lord would offer wealth. He had then spoke in dragon tongue when he saw eyes peering at him in the woods, and passed out from blood loss; he didn’t wake for five days. Merlin hadn’t left his side, and eventually Balinor made him Merlin’s personal knight when the truth came out of his past. He grew to regret that with the chaos they caused together. But Merlin and Lancelot were too fast friends to be broken apart. 

“Merlin, Gwen and I will cope. The will of the gods, must be met. Gwen has fond stories of him, and,” Lancelot grinned, and for a moment all the nobility sheered off his face, to show his playful side, “have you seen Arthur’s ass?”

Merlin laughed the whole way to the training grounds and ignored the taunts from his people as they saw him with the sword. “I’m not that bad!” he shouted back to them. 

“My lord, sadly you are,” Lancelot said and then swung at him.

Merlin barely blocked it, “Then shouldn’t you take it easy on me?” He fell and rolled managing to just avoid a blow that would knock him out. To people who didn’t know him, Lancelot looked merciless, but Merlin knew he was barely going at half speed and strength, and still kicking Merlin’s ass. 

But Merlin could, and would, cheat. He called out and a swarm of small dragons flew around Lancelot’s head. Merlin ran and grabbed a shield. What was the bloody point of having shields and not using them, after all. He stood at the ready, shield in hand like his father had taught him, and Lancelot ordered the dragons away. For a moment they wouldn’t leave because the lord had called them but Lancelot spoke to them softly, and just like most people would happily obey that voice, so did the dragons.

“Does your wife not mind that you use your bed pallet voice on dragons, Lance?” Merlin charged a bit, and bashed him with the shield and the bastard didn’t even stumble back.

“Not in the least, the gods gave me these dulcet tones, I should use them whenever I can.” Lancelot did something that Merlin’s eyes could barely track, and he found himself on the ground. “If you like, I can use that voice on your right now, make your defeat less embarrassing.”

Merlin was about to summon his magic, when a shadow fell over him. “You know, I never have liked knights.” He could hear a sword being unsheathed and looked up. Gwaine was standing there, sword held in arms that were loose and taut at the same time. “They are so very often just cruel cudgels with little understanding of what they are meant to be.”

“Are you not a knight of Camelot?” Lancelot shifted his shoulders a bit, and Merlin while often brazen was no fool, and he swiftly rolled out of the way. 

“Not by choice,” Gwaine replied and started to move. The crowd slowly grew and Merlin was torn between stopping this and wanting to see what would happen. He started to step forward before it could escalate, but a hand on his shoulder halted him.

“No, let them,” Arthur said.

“Why?” Merlin was watching them, “Lancelot at least has his gambeson on, Gwaine is in his shirtsleeves.” And he knew how Lancelot fought. He didn’t care about the rumours he heard of the knights of Camelot, they could not compare to their Lancelot. “It will be an unfair fight.”

“Not as unfair as you think,” Arthur said. “He is your commander?”

Merlin shrugged, “I suppose, yes.” He didn’t really think of it in those terms. Balinor had and called Lancelot their first. He just called the man his friend. “So?”

“Every army has a commander,” Arthur explained. “I suppose that is me until I am king.”

There was a twist to his lips, a bitterness in his voice.

“You’ll be a good one,” Merlin offered. 

“You can’t know that, and I will be competent,” Arthur replied. “But the point is when that becomes my lot in life -”

Merlin couldn’t. “To lead is a privilege, a gift. Not a lot.” He looked at Arthur. “I know you will give everything for your people, but as much as it is duty, responsibility if you have no pleasure from rule, you shouldn’t do it.”

“My father pleasures in ruling, it does him no credit.”

“Freya has all my words,” Merlin muttered. Lancelot and Gwaine were still circling. Not taunts or jeers, just getting the measure of each other. “I chose to rule. I could have not put my hand in. No one would have judged me. But I wanted to lead, not for the power, but because I wanted to see my people content, know that I did that, or had a hand in it. Do you understand the difference?”

“No,” Arthur replied honestly. “Your people need to fear you to respect you.” But he was clearly parroting the words, didn’t believe in them. “Your man puts you in the mud, and you are fine with that?”

“Of course,” Merlin replied easily. “I should practice more.” He held his breath. “I promise to heal the damage that Lancelot does.”

“You really don’t understand,” Arthur said. 

Merlin winced at the first clash of metal, the two knights had started. He watched them, and yes he had seen Gwaine practice a bit with the men, but this was different. They were equal but very different fighters. Merlin could hear bets being exchanged and he honestly didn’t know who he wanted to win. 

“When I am king, Leon will be my eyes, Percival my muscle, Elyan my heart.”

Merlin watched as what he knew would happen, happened; Lancelot began to steadily push Gwaine back. The crowd roared when Gwaine was pushed to his knees. It was over and their man had won. Then it went very quiet as Gwaine twisted and did an odd kick that surprised Lancelot and then he was back up, and relentless. He pushed hard, easily moving between double hold and single swings in patterns that Merlin had not seen before. And clearly Lancelot hadn’t either. Lancelot stumbled back and his sword was knocked from his hands. He took a step back and bowed.

“I concede,” Lancelot said, “to the better knight.”

“He didn’t like that,” Merlin said, as he watched Gwaine’s face.

“He is my guiding star. He says he is my strength, but that is a lie. I judge any action I take by whether he would approve or not. Because under the drinking and flirting? There is no one who understands true right and wrong more than Gwaine.” Arthur was tense beside, “Be careful Merlin, with your future lies, how they may hurt him.”

“Why are you so sure I will lie?”

“Because we are leaders of men, we always have to lie.”

“How much does it break you?” Merlin looked at Arthur, saw the ghosts in his eyes. “It will be fine,” he promised, though he really couldn’t.

“You should talk to Gwaine,” Arthur suggested. 

“You should talk to Lancelot,” Merlin countered. There was a bit of a flush on Arthur’s cheek. “He is as beautiful on the inside as he is on the outside.”

“Is he?” Arthur’s flush grew a bit.

Merlin smiled, “Indeed, one time he had an arrow in his stomach and I had to pull it out. Saw his guts, they are really attractive guts.” He laughed when Arthur pushed him, and he fell into the mud of the training ground. “What?” he tried to sound innocent and it didn’t really work. A few of the baby dragons saw him on the ground and all ran over and soon he was covered. Merlin laughed and pet them all. He stood and ran a bit and they gave chase like ducklings or puppies. He let them tackle him and praised what good hunters they were and how big and strong they’d be after their hibernation. One of the babies shot a little fire spark at him and he pinched it out as it landed on his shirt. “Oh my, growing up so fast,” He said as the dragon seemed shocked that it managed to do that. He gave the dragon a nuzzle. “You’ll have to find a human for yourself soon. I can feel it, you are meant to be partnered.” He could. Not all dragons were destined to be connected to a dragon speaker. But he could sense the ones that were. He looked at the dragon in the eye carefully studied him. “Well, look at you,” he said softly. “How have you escaped my notice?” He realized looking at the eyes of the dragon, it was no baby, but almost an adult.

The dragon chittered at him all excited that he was finally being seen. Merlin listened to the dragon tongue about the dragon who had hibernated, but hadn’t grown any and was quite upset about that. Because he was supposed he was supposed to be big and strong like his father, but he wasn’t. Merlin listened as the small dragon who he had mistaken for a baby yelled at the gods, for not understanding who he was supposed to be.

He was a runt. It happened sometimes. In the old days, a few generations ago, dragons like that would be killed, as it was considered a mercy. Balinor had put a stop to that and Merlin agreed. There was such spirit in the dragon that couldn’t be denied. And he might be a runt, but he had still sparked a bit. He might be small, but he was clearly meant to connect with a speaker.

“We have several people who haven’t found their dragon yet,” Merlin stroked the creatures snout. He had beautiful colouring. At first it looked dull grey but when the light hit the scales, they shimmered a million different blues and greens. The dragon explained he had already found his human thank you very much, and Merlin was to make the official pronouncement. With sparkly magic, that would be great.

Merlin didn’t laugh at the little creature. “Who have you picked?” He thought of all the options for the dragon. With his size and only just sparking a warrior wasn’t a great pick, but there was a cook who would like the sass, a hunter maybe. The dragon popped up into the air and zoomed up high into the sky, called out to gain the attention of the other dragons around.

Gods above, the little one really wanted to put on a show that he had found his human. But for a runt like that, it was rare so he deserved to be a little smug and show off. A few of the larger dragons answered the little one’s call. And he saw what clearly was the father of the dragon come swooping down. He lowered his head formally to Merlin.

“My lord,” the dragon said. 

Merlin could feel Arthur and Gwaine watching him, and saw that the other knights were approaching, called over by all the commotion. Many of their people were circling as well. A claiming between a human and a dragon was always a joyous thing.

“Hello, Garbhan, he is your son?”

“He is, and a pain in the ass,” the dragon proclaimed and Merlin had to laugh.

“He has spirit,” Merlin replied. “He will not grow much more, will he?”

“No, his egg was cracked we never thought him to live. He might if well cared for grow to the size of a wolfhound, but not true like myself or his mother.” Garbhan was the size of a warhorse, and served next to one of Lancelot’s team. 

Merlin nodded, “Is he ready to be connected to the camp?”

The young dragon chittered in dragon tongue that yes he was. He took a deep breath and let out a spark and managed to speak in the human tongue, “Yes,” he shouted. He seemed surprised that he managed that. Stubborn little pup. Merlin adored stubborn dragons. 

He held up a hand and cast his magic. Freya joined him and their magic swirled together, around the small dragon who spun with it, floated on the power. “Go to your human, let them speak your name, and be connected,” they said at the same time.

The dragon roared and it was the cutest sound Merlin heard. Almost a baby noise coming out of a dragon that was as fully grown as it would get. He watched as the dragon darted through the crowd. Several of his people held open their arms but he ignored them all. He swung back towards them and then Merlin’s magic faltered for a moment as the dragon crashed into Gwaine and knocked them both over. The dragon was scenting Gwaine, claiming him. Several of the dragons had grown affectionate to the knights of Camelot, look how Berit adored Arthur, but they weren’t dragon speakers -- they couldn’t bond to a dragon.

But it seemed that this dragon did not care. He kept chittering and scenting Gwaine who couldn’t understand at all what the beast was saying.

Merlin looked to Freya who shrugged helplessly. “I am sorry but -”

“I will claim him,” Gwaine interjected, his arms were already around the creature. Protecting him. The dragon easily escaped the hold and then wrapped itself in a similar way around Gwaine, explaining to Merlin he was protecting his human. He was strong, he could do it. “What is he saying?” At least Gwaine understood that the dragon was speaking.

“He is insisting that the two of you were meant to be together,” Merlin crouched in front of them. They did feel right, as they stood both trying to protect each other. “But for a bond to be formalized, a dragon speaker has to know in his heart, hear in his dragon’s voice what his dragon’s name is. Be able to call it. And Gwaine is not a speaker.” He felt bad for the dragon but there would be a match in camp. There would have to be, this dragon was not strong enough to make the claiming journey.

Gwaine looked at him. “At the party, when you revealed your lie, you shouted and your dragon appeared. It was -” Gwaine took a breath and almost copied the dragon call. It almost sounded right,asz but it didn’t have the true power of a speaker behind it. No dragon would be compelled to answer it.

Lancelot stepped forward. “Listen,” he said and repeated the dragon call, shouted it. His dragon roared in the mountain and swooped down. Landed with a thunk, a rich blue and the size of one of Gaius’s medical tent. “The call is felt in their soul, heard over mountains and oceans.” 

Gwaine repeated it a few more times, and at last got the pronunciation right. The little dragon was licking his face in excitement. It was honestly impressive, dragon tongue was almost impossible to pronounce if you didn’t have the call of it in your soul. But still. “It wouldn’t bid him over mountain or river,” Merlin said.

“Well, he wouldn’t be that far away from me, anyways would you?” Gwaine asked the dragon and groaned as the dragon stomped a bit in its excitement. “You wouldn’t be compelled, forced to return to me. If I called, you would have the choice wouldn’t you? The freedom to answer or not. I like that much better than that my words would chain you to me.”

Merlin felt a bit sick at that. Of how Gwaine had been chained to Arthur, and now to him. “You need to speak his name. If you are truly a fated pair, you will know his name in your heart and -”

“Conan,” Gwaine looked up. “His name is Conan.” The dragon just collapsed against Gwaine and Merlin as the dragon lord could feel the bond form. A runt dragon connected for life to a normal human. It would become a child’s bedtime story.

Merlin cast his magic around the two, encircled them. “It is done. Conan and Gwaine are bonded, person and beast, until their time comes.” He watched as Gwaine nuzzled the dragon in turn. Freya went over and kissed them both, gave them the blessings of the old gods. Everyone in the crowd didn’t quite know how to react, until Lancelot shouted a cheer and they all followed suit, in awe at witnessing something so rare. 

Conan flew into the air and Gwaine shouted the call to return. The dragon ignored it, happy flying and it was clear that this pleased Gwaine, that the dragon wasn’t forced to come to him.

“I can’t marry him,” Merlin replied, “I can’t force his hand like that.”

“Don’t force his hand by refusing. That is still taking choice away from him,” Arthur said next to him. “Talk to him.” He smiled a bit, “one of my men now has a dragon. Of course it was Gwaine.”

Lancelot approached, “Arthur, Gwen says you would be well trained, would you care to cross swords?” 

Arthur smiled and nodded, went to retrieve his gear.

Merlin would have gone to a bench, ready to watch what would be another good fight but Lancelot gave him that look. The be an adult and deal with shit look. “Fine,” Merlin muttered and approached Gwaine. “Could we talk? In private?” Gwaine was staring at him, and it was a heavy gaze. “Please?” There was a nod and Merlin lead the way. When he would have closed the tent flap, Conan swooped in, and dropped hard on Gwaine’s shoulders.

“Not the gentlest landing,” Gwaine groaned. He sat on the bench that Merlin had in the space, and the dragon immediately settled on the rest of the space and looked up at Gwaine like the man was a hero of old, or a god. 

Merlin smiled a bit. “I have never even heard of a dragon bonding with a non-speaker. The stories that will be told of this.”

Gwaine began to stroke Conan’s neck. “He isn’t what he’s supposed to be. I can understand that. He will defy expectations, I am betting, be magnificent.”

“Like you,” Merlin guessed.

Gwaine snorted a bit. “No, I exactly live up to everyone’s expectations of me. Which are quite low, really.”

“Arthur speaks highly of you. Values you.”

“Well, he has been knocked out a lot in fights.” Gwaine was looking around the tent. “Not quite what I expected.”

Merlin sat on his bed, a simple raised platform covered in furs. “What did you expect?”

“Kings tend to have…more? Better?”

“This suits me,” Merlin looked around the space. “I figured when I wed I would see about bigger tent, but since my dragon sleeps in the mountain and there is no tent that could actually fit him, I like this space.” He went to the small table he had. “I have wine?”

“It would be appreciated, but I cannot get up?” Conan had fallen asleep on Gwaine, and it was clear that Gwaine was reluctant to move the creature. “Merlin, I have a dragon.” Gwaine began to laugh. “In less than a fortnight, I almost died to protect Arthur, who I thought I hated, I found out old gods I don’t even believe in want me to wed the fucking dragon lord of Albion, and now? Now I have a dragon I cannot understand and am bonded to for life.” He was laughing but trying to contain it so as not to wake the dragon. “Why? Merlin, just can you tell me, why me?”

“I can’t,” Merlin handed him a small mug of wine. “The gods are unknowable.”

“Freya knows them, could she ask.”

“It doesn’t quite work like that,” Merlin shrugged, “some days I wish it did. I am sorry though.”

“To be forced to marry me? Wise.”

Merlin watched him. He couldn’t parse out the man. He was a mix of flirty and bitter. Strong and so vulnerable. He wanted to know more, but if he pushed he’d never know anything. He had to choose his words carefully. “I am sorry I lied to you.”

“No, you aren’t,” Gwaine shook his head. “You want to be sorry, that is a different thing. Because if you could use your magic to move time back, you’d do the same thing.”

“The lie, yes,” Merlin had to admit, “But I wouldn’t have flirted back. Done that to you.” 

“Hmm,” Gwaine finished the wine and held out the cup, “It is an awfully small mug.”

Merlin poured a bit more. “We could not wed,” he blurted out. “I can defy the gods.” His heart froze a little at the thought. Because there was a heavy price for that. But he could pay it. “We won’t wed.” He nodded determined.

“Merlin?” Gwaine smiled at him, and it was a cold thing. “Get fucked.”

“Gods I wish, hasn’t happened in months,” Merlin blinked. “Oh, shit.” He groaned. “Bugger.” He sat on his bed and pressed his palms to his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I have to ask, how are you the one in charge here?”

“Right now, I have no bloody clue,” Merlin sighed and lowered his hands. He looked at Gwaine. “You were chattel, handed over to Arthur in border negotiations. How could they get away with that?”

“Because lords and kings never give a fuck about the people who carry swords in their name.”

“Arthur does. I do.” Merlin ran a hand through his hair, it was getting long and he’d have to cut it. “Did you want to be a knight?”

“My father was,” was the response he got.

“But did you want it?” Merlin pressed.

“No.” 

“Who would you be if you could be different?”

Gwaine laughed. “A knight.”

“That makes no sense,” Merlin laughed a bit at it as well.

“I like helping people, I like the training. I hate that I never get to choose.” Gwaine couldn’t meet his gaze and focused on his dragon. “I wanted to be a knight like my father, and he died. I was pressed into squiring early. I never got to say yes I want to do this. The lord insisted and my mother agreed, happy to see the last of me, in her grief sick of seeing my father’s eyes in my face. I was small and hated because me being your squire brought you no worth since my father was dead. But I was fast and clever and survived. That made me hated even more. My lord was happy to use me for tactics, in battle, and then put me in the stocks or have me whipped for every infraction. Then I was traded away, with silks, and gold and a couple other servants. To a man just the same.”

“Uther,” Merlin nodded, “Is he as bad as the stories suggest?”

“Worse,” Gwaine replied, “and I was put in Arthur’s personal grouping. And I waited for him to be like the others. And he was and wasn’t. He had that arrogance, but he listened. There was a mission, and I knew our task was wrong and voiced my concerns. Waited to be told I’d be beaten for insubordination. But instead he asked why.” Gwaine looked a bit lost. “He asked why. I hate him a lot of days, because I didn’t get to choose to be his knight.”

“But if you did?”

“I would,” Gwaine nodded slowly. “If he ever asked, I would say it is my honour to be his knight. But he is just arrogant enough to assume, to accept. And before you say I could ask, that would defeat the purpose wouldn’t it?”

Merlin nodded. He thought he understood the man a bit more. “Gwaine?”

“Hmm?” 

“The gods demand that we wed. I can’t undo that our choice is out of our hands. But I can ask?” Merlin moved closer, pet Conan’s head where it rested on Gwaine’s lap. He let his hand drift and touched Gwaine’s knee. “Would you marry me, for the sake of good people?”

“It isn’t much of a choice, really, just theatre,” Gwaine pointed out.

“But it is what I can offer,” Merlin replied. He pressed his hand, could feel the heat of Gwaine’s skin through the clothes, “I’m asking as much as I can. Marry me?”

“I will,” Gwaine replied. Gwaine pet Conan who almost was purring in his sleep. “I have a dragon. And it seems a dragon lord. Bizarre fucking day.”

“Another mug of wine?”

Gwaine nodded. “Please.”

They sat together and drank the bottle in silence, but not objecting to each other’s company.


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur didn’t know what to do with himself. It had been a few days since the whole destiny and make the worst choice ever thing had been dropped on him, and he was just at a loss. No one expected anything of him here. His life hadn’t had that since he was five. He wanted to jump out of his skin. He trained with his men, and sometimes the dragon clan members. He and Lancelot had sparred a couple more times, but said nothing to each other.

They would wed soon and had said not a word that wasn’t focused on the fighting.

And he certainly hadn’t been running in the opposite direction when he had seen Gwen anywhere near him. He lay on his pallet in the tent the knights had and heard a crash. A crash that was growing increasingly familiar.

“Conan, remember you stop flying just a bit before you run into me,” Gwaine chided.

“No!” and then there were the squeaks and hisses in dragon tongue that none of them could understand.

Arthur found it hilarious that the second human word Gwaine’s dragon managed was no. It was honestly perfect. That dragon was a chaotic disaster and Gwaine adored it. They all did really, and Arthur was perhaps a touch jealous that Berit hadn’t requested to bond with him. But it seemed like not every dragon had the drive to bond with a human, which maybe Berit wasn’t the sort to bond. They could just be friends. “Your dragon is making a ruckus again, Gwaine.”

“I know,” Gwaine did not sound repentant in the least. “You need to play?” There were flapping wings and happy noises. “Want to play hunt the knight? Who wants to play hunt the knight? Who wants to play hunt the knight?” There was more of that chittering none of them could understand. “Okay, Conan, pick the knight!”

The whole tent groaned at those words. But Arthur noticed, they all sat up. Conan was walking around the floor, between them all and seemed to hover near Percival for a moment before he turned and blew a little smoke in Arthur’s face.

“Sorry, Arthur, seems you are it,” Gwaine had a stupid grin on his face and Arthur was going to wipe it off later. “Can’t disappoint Conan, can we?”

“No,” Conan agreed and blew more smoke at Arthur. 

“Fine,” Arthur pretended to be reluctant, but it was rather fun to play hunt the knight with Conan. And it would give him something to do. They all went to the training grounds and Arthur stood on the balls of his feet. Conan was on Gwaine’s shoulder. He was almost too big to perch there, but they were managing. Arthur grinned and then ran.

“Hunt the knight, Conan,” Gwaine shouted and Conan flew into the air. There was an attempt at a roar but it was more of a squeak and Arthur dropped to the ground, rolled before Conan could dive bomb him. He moved around the training grounds dodging a great number of the attacks, but occasionally Conan clipped him a bit. Gwaine did the call to come and Conan ignored it for one last chance at Arthur.

Arthur stood and met his gaze as Conan swooped down at him, ready to jump out of the way at the last minute and then he saw a streak fly by and swirl around Conan, confusing him.

Berit was half the size of Conan and it seemed yelling at him. Spinning fast circles around the grey dragon so that he couldn’t reach Arthur. Arthur tried the call that Gwaine did and it sounded awful, came out all wrong. Both dragons stopped and looked at him askance. “Yes, I know,” Arthur had never had a head for languages at all. 

Gwaine called again and Conan flew over to him, not stopping until he of course crashed into Gwaine and knocked them both over because Conan didn’t really believe in stopping. Gwaine was soon rolling around the training grounds with his dragon and they were both laughing and happy. Berit settled on Arthur’s shoulder and nuzzled against him.

“Thank you for protecting me, but we were just playing you know. Conan wants to train to fight with Gwaine. So practice.” There was more nuzzles and Arthur rubbed the tiny dragon’s neck. “You are a much better flyer,” he whispered to Berit. He loved the happy squeak the dragon made. Gwaine came over to them and Conan was attached to his back like a rucksack, his head atop Gwaine's. Seemed easier than the the on the shoulder that Berit could do. 

“Well played, little one,” Gwaine told Berit. Arthur didn’t laugh when it seemed like Berit and Conan stuck their tongues out at each other. They were both adult dragons, or near enough, and were also like children. But Arthur thought of the times in training when he and his men were more like children as well, and couldn’t really tease the dragons. “We have an audience,” Gwaine told Arthur and shifted a bit. 

Gwen and Merlin were standing there, watching them. Merlin waved an absurd gesture, and Gwen just was smiling faintly.

Arthur nodded at them. “I should go…check on…Leon?”

“You should go talk to Gwen,” Gwaine said firmly. 

“She looks busy.”

“She is just standing there,” Gwaine kicked his shin lightly. “Go, or I’ll make dinner tonight incredibly embarrassing. It will involve my seven veils dance.”

Arthur paled a bit at that. “I am going,” he did not want to see that ever again. Yes, it had technically saved their lives that one time, but still, he didn’t need to see Gwaine’s hips doing that again. He walked over to the two watching them. “Merlin,” he greeted the dragon lord first as was proper. He took a small breath. “Gwen,” he said, and then sort of stood there unsure what else to say.

Merlin looked at them. “Right. Bye.” He turned and walked away, leaving them alone. Wonderful.

Arthur couldn’t quite meet Gwen’s gaze and found himself looking at her hands. They dirty and scarred. “They look like your father’s hands,” he said out loud. “They are so ugly.” He had said. Out loud. “I just mean -” Berit hissed at him and flew away, and gods above Arthur wished he could fly away as well. “They aren’t ugly, they are worn.” He was fairly certain that was making it worse. “Gwaine!” he shouted, terrified, because Gwen wasn’t saying anything. Gwaine knew how to use pretty words, he could save the situation.

Gwaine came over and bowed, “My lady,” he said and brought one of those hands to his lips, laid a gentle and courtly kiss on the back. “I have to say, Camelot’s loss was the dragon clan’s gain. I have compared my sword to the ones you make, and you are an incredibly skilled blacksmith.” He was kissing each finger tip. “You carry marks of honour and skill upon your fingers, we should all be so lucky as to be skilled at our craft as you.”

Why couldn’t he have said that?

“I remember you,” Gwen said.

“I had hoped you would.” Gwaine had somehow found a small flower, and handed it to her. “But I suppose the circumstances suggest that once again I will not be invited to your and the beautiful knight’s bed.”

Gwen took the flower for a moment and then handed it back to him. “You suppose correctly. You should give that flower to Merlin.”

Gwaine put the flower behind his own ear. “My princess,” he said.

“I am hardly royal.”

“Not yet, but you will be, and you will always be royal to me,” he winked and kissed her hand again before sauntering off, and Arthur noticed in the opposite direction to what Merlin had gone. Sure, make Arthur talk to people and then avoid doing it himself. 

“He and Merlin are going to be interesting together,” Gwen said. She was smiling and Arthur’s stomach hurt - but a good hurt. 

“I promise our marriage will be in name only, I have no intention of causing any pain or fissures in your relationship with Lancelot,” Arthur said. He was in earnest with this. All he wanted was for Gwen to stay as happy as she was, and he refused to have what the gods decree interfere with that, and if they didn’t like it they could rise up and fight him. “I will not bring you more harm than I already have.”

“Arthur,” Gwen smiled, “you have never brought me harm.” She kissed his cheek and tucked her arm into his. It felt so good to have her near again. “Now it has been years but I doubt this has changed about you - you are going out of your mind with boredom.”

“I am so bored,” Arthur agreed. “Oh enjoy your time. How can I enjoy my time doing nothing? What is enjoyable about nothing? It is awful.”

“Some people like taking breaks, relaxing. Elyan seems quite content.” 

“He lasted a day after seeing you, before he was working the forge with you. Leon has been learning how to climb mountains. Percival is helping with chores and repairs. Gwaine is relaxing I suppose, but I am supposed to sit around and wait for whatever ceremony binds us and what look pretty?” Arthur made a face. “Yes, we’ve been training but that isn’t enough. Please give me something to do. Anything. Lord, I will muck stalls at this point.”

“Lancelot and a team are going hunting for meat, check the borders. A couple days. They could use your eyes on the trip.”

“I am sure they are more than capable,” Arthur protested.

“They are, but if you don’t go you’ll find a way to make trouble around the camp.”

Arthur would have argued but she was right. If he didn’t get out and do something, he would make a project in camp and that never went well. “Lancelot is lead?”

“He is, and he knows these woods, so you will follow his orders,” Gwen said. 

“I can follow orders,” Arthur swore.

“How long since you had to?”

“I can follow orders,” Arthur insisted. “He knows the terrain, what to expect. I can follow his lead.” He saw that they were almost at her forge. “Could I watch you work for a bit?”

“If you like,” Gwen went to her work area and put on a heavy apron. “But stay out of my way, there are swords that need tending to.” There was a small bench and table near her work area, so Arthur settled in. Gwen pulled her hair back and settled into her work. Her serious face was the same look of focus as her father had had. He watched as she repaired swords, hands steady, arms pounding with the hammer. She was so strong, handling swords that he had seen young knights tire of in just a little bit. “Here give the balance on this a feel,” she requested after quenching a piece.

Arthur took it from her and held the blade aloft. It was perfectly straight, he wouldn’t know where the repair had been if he hadn’t seen her working. He gave it a few swings and wrist twirls. It was light, really light. He didn’t want to insult her but he questioned the damage it could do. “It feels even,” was all he said.

“Try it on one of the dummies over there.” 

Arthur took it over the the dummy and slashed at about half strength not wanting to break her work, only to watch as blade cut through like it was nothing. “What the hell?” He could hear her laugh and took a few more swings and the blade did incredible damage with little effort. “What magic is this?”

“That is the ore I was in the mountains for,” she said and he heard the pound of her hammer. “The dragons breathe fire inside the mountain, on the ore in there. Magical creatures makes magical metal. Lighter, holds an edge longer, and can defeat foes brought forth with dark magic.” Arthur ran through his forms a bit with the blade, adored the feel of it. He wondered who it belonged to, perhaps he could pay or trade for it. “Give it back,” she said and he pouted a bit.

“I could keep it a bit longer,” Arthur tried to wheedle. “It needs a bit more testing. Not that I don’t trust your work, clearly you are as good as your father was, but still to err on the side of caution is important.”

“Arthur, that blade is a hair too short for your particular swing. Try this one,” she was holding out another sword, and it shone in the low sun. “It is named Excalibur. I made it about a year ago, knew it was meant for someone, was waiting to find out who. The gods spoke and I knew.” The blade was resting on her open palms and almost hurt to look at.

Arthur put the sword he was holding down and stepped forward. His hand ghosted over the top of the blade and he could feel an energy coming from it. “Is it magic?”

“I suppose a little bit. Kilgharrah’s fire made it. He is old and strong and the dragon lord’s own, so it is certainly a different sword than any other I have made.” Arthur was scared to pick it up. “Your highness, it is, it always was, meant for you.” She raised it up and Arthur grasped the grip, gently lifted it away from her. No sword had ever fit his hand as well as this one did. It was also light but just enough heft to make him comfortable. The pommel had an end that would knock a man out, symbols were carved into the blade.

“Words?”

“Truth, honour, freedom, chivalry,” she pointed at each, “in the dragon tongue.”

“It can’t be for me, then, I don’t speak it.” He ached at the thought of returning it to her hands, it was his, he knew it deep down. But if it was in that tongue it was not. He started to return it but her hand wrapped around his. She brought it to her lips and kissed his knuckles.

“It is yours,” she swore. “Arthur, you still don’t believe in yourself?”

“No,” he whispered.

“I do,” she promised and stepped back. “I have work.”

“Thank you,” he said, for the sword, for the words. “I am going to do my very best to make sure I don’t hurt you.” He wanted to say more, but he didn’t know what to say and just gave her a bit of a bow and left. He took the sword to the tent and lay it carefully on his cot. He went to the pools and stripped down once he was at his preferred one. He went under the water and stayed until his lungs burned. He repeated this a few times, until he was light headed and then he just floated in the pool. He opened his eyes and stared at the sky. Merlin’s dragon was flying lazy circles in the air, a dozen others swirling all around him, moons around the planet. He heard splashing as someone else entered the pool with him. 

“Hello,” the voice said and in a moment he recognized it as Lancelot. Arthur stopped floating and turned. Lancelot was smiling a bit, hair slicked back from going under the water, droplets slid down his cheek. He was gorgeous. He knew men were attractive. He spent a great deal of time with his knights, he well understood their beauty and charm. But it had never called to him the way Gwen’s husband called to him, drew him in.

Soon to be his husband as well.

Arthur realized he was staring at the man and saying nothing. “Hello,” he finally greeted.

“Gwen gave you the sword.” 

“She did,” Arthur agreed. He watched Lancelot, wondered if the man was upset that such an incredible blade wasn’t his. “I was hoping to go with you on the hunt, to patrol the borders. I can give it to you when we are along our way.”

“No,” Lancelot shook his head. “I tested it for her when it was made. It was not for me. The blade felt wrong in my hand. I carry the blade that has seen me through much. When it is done, my wife will make me a sword then.”

That bothered Arthur. “You don’t carry her work? She seems even better than her father.”

“I do. A dagger, my chest plate. A lance.”

Arthur laughed a bit.

Lancelot smiled, “I know. She made it for me, when I first began to court her - a lance for a Lance. Do you ever partake of the lists?”

“I do,” Arthur replied, “I admit a fondness for tournament sport. Do you enjoy the same?”

“We have small tournaments and games regularly. It would be fun to face off against you, I should think.” Lancelot swam a little closer. Arthur wanted to swim away but he stayed where he was. “Perhaps if we have a successful hunt, we can convince Merlin to let us play a little bit.”

“Is he hard to convince? It seems like it would be good morale for your men.” 

“No, he is not hard to convince at all.” Lancelot had moved closer. They weren’t touching, but it was close. “Arthur?”

“Huh?” Lancelot’s eyelashes were wet, clumped together. He had honestly never thought about eyelashes before. But he was now.

“You said you would not come between Gwen and I, but consider there is a very good chance that is exactly where we could want you. In between us.” Lancelot leaned forward, and then tilted his head so that his lips just skimmed over Arthur’s cheekbone. He then swam passed Arthur and vaulted out of the pool. Arthur stayed in the water a while longer before he returned to his tent. He was quiet all through dinner, kept looking over at Gwen and Lancelot who gazed at each other with such love and joy, it was all very confusing to him.

But being useful, earning his keep would help sort out his brain. Later when the he and his knights were settled into their tent, Leon agreed to come along when Arthur asked if anyone was interested. As he was drifting off he heard running and then a crash. “Conan, remember to stop before you crush my knight please.”

“No!” the dragon shouted, well pleased. Gwaine’s chuckle suggested he was quite pleased as well, that his dragon talked back to the prince.

“Who is a good dragon?” Gwaine whispered, “Who is the best dragon? Is it my Conan? It is.”

“Go to sleep,” Arthur ordered. He was relieved when they didn’t say no in response. He had a fitful night and at dawn he went for a walk. He saw Gwen lighting her forge, a shirtless Lancelot wrapped around her, kissing her neck. Arthur turned and went for a walk in the opposite direction.


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur stood back to a tree, Excalibur at the ready. The patrol had been going well, when they stumbled across a camp. Normally it would be no concern, but Lancelot had thrown up when he had scent the meat they were roasting reach him; most of the patrol looked sick. 

It had taken Arthur a moment to realize that Berit was crying on his shoulder, and he understood what they were eating.

Dragons were protected creatures across all lands, it was illegal to hunt them. Even in Camelot they abide by that law. Arthur had carefully put Berit on a tree branch, knowing from Lancelot’s shoulders what was coming next. “Stay,” he had whispered, not that he expected Berit to understand. But the dragon settled in the crux of a branch and nodded. 

Lancelot’s team were moving ahead. Arthur, Leon, one of Lancelot’s men were waiting. They were driving them this way, and if they fled, or as the battle moved they were to attack. It was similar to many a plan Arthur had formed and it was a good one. He itched at not being in charge though. He lead Lancelot let out a war cry that was very impressive and the heat of upcoming battle because to move Arthur’s blood faster. He listened as he waited against the tree. The clash of weapons, cries of men, in rage, in fear; in death.

The he heard running footsteps. He took a few deep breaths and moved away from the tree. His sword sliced through the leather jerkin the man was wearing, gutted him. He pulled the sword out and met the weapons raising towards his head from the left. He pushed the man back hard and Leon had him. A couple more and then it was done.

A swift and relatively easy skirmish. Arthur went forward and frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Stealing their shit,” one of Lancelot’s men - Tristan - said. “They don’t need it anymore, and we might.”

“Isn’t that wrong?”

Isolde was rifling through a chest. “What they did was wrong. Should blankets, metal for Gwen to play with, be left behind to rot and rust or help our camp through winter?” A small pile was growing. They weren’t taking everything, just what they knew was needed. He saw Lancelot digging a small hole and placing the dragon remains inside. Arthur went over to help him. Lancelot was weeping, openly, matter of fact, a thing that Arthur had not seen in a commander before.

“No man or creature is worth your tears,” Arthur said automatically, repeating the lesson he had learned from his father.

“Every man and creature are worth our tears,” Lancelot said in return.

Arthur didn’t know what to do with that, so he just helped cover up the hole. Lancelot was clearly saying a prayer in the dragon tongue, and Arthur slowly reached out, rested a hand on the man’s shoulder. He was relieved when it wasn’t shrugged away. Supplies were gathered, the men they killed left to rot or feed the animals and they continued on their patrol.

That night the air in camp was different, just like with his men after a skirmish. There was more barbed jokes, and restlessness as they dealt with the adrenaline of battle. When Tristan and Isolde smiled at each other and disappeared into the woods there were jokes thrown their way, but Lancelot did not stop them.

“Does having a couple among your team cause problems?” Arthur had questions. “Do they only protect each other for their fellow comrades? Do they compliment their fighting styles to each other?” 

Lancelot smiled, “They are unique. She is of the clan, he is not. He was a smuggler and fell in love. He was welcomed and we tried to find a place for him. He explained though that his place was at her side. I eventually stopped fighting him over it. They fight well together, and yes his priority is always her safety first, but Tristan has learned, keep the team safe, he keeps her safe.”

“And then they get to burn off the post battle haze by fucking it out, while the rest of us are stuck with out right hand,” one of the men teased.

Arthur watched to see Lancelot’s response to the crude comment. It wasn’t uncommon for men to need that sort of release after a fight, and he had known of course what his men were doing when it took a long time to return to camp from ‘just need to take a quick piss’ but they never spoke so casually about it, at least not in front of Arthur.

Lancelot just laughed a bit. “Now now, Morrvyd there uses his left hand.”

There was much laughter and Arthur was surprised when even Leon chuckled, usually the man was as repressed as well, Arthur was. Sure enough a man would excuse himself and come back a bit later, the tension drained out of his shoulders. Tristan and Isolde returned, flushed and very content. Leon returned quickly honestly just watering a tree, the man never seemed to have an interest in that sort of thing. “Excuse me,” Arthur said politely. “I’ll collect some firewood.”

“I’ll join you,” Lancelot stood as well. “Because my men never seem to think to grab some when they return to camp, no matter how much I have told them to.”

There were groans and excuses given, and Lancelot ignored them. They walked into the woods and Arthur ducked behind a tree to take a leak and he was surprised that Lancelot was actually gathering firewood. He gathered a few branches himself, and notice one bit of ground growth in particular. “Night blooming flowers?”

“Indeed there are some in these parts, though they won’t bloom much longer, frosts will be soon.” 

Arthur couldn’t help himself and carefully plucked the flower. Or he would have but it was stubborn and not pulling off. A small knife in wide fingers moved in front of him, over his hand and cut at the cover. He was given a small branch. Arthur brought it to his nose and it barely had a fragrance, the blooms small, white a darker colour in the center that the night shadowed. “What is its name?”

“Annoying ground cover?” Lancelot laughed a bit. “Merlin or Freya would know, not really my area of study.”

“You should take it back to Gwen, she’d appreciate it.”

“She’ll appreciate the shield I am bringing her back,” Lancelot countered.

“Pretty people should have pretty flowers,” Arthur insisted.

“You are right,” Lancelot agreed and bent to cut a few more of the thin branches. Good, the man would bring them to Gwen and she would smile. He remembered a hill outside the walls of Camelot, just covered in summer flowers and them plucking them and waging war. Pelting each other with them, until they just started rolling in the grass. He was confused though when Lancelot held out the flowers to him. Maybe he wanted Arthur to carry them while he carried the firewood. Arthur stayed still when Lancelot leaned in and brushed his lips against Arthur’s. “Pretty flowers for a pretty man.” The flowers were pressed into his hands and Lancelot picked up the firewood and headed back to camp.

Arthur stood there, unsure what to do. He stared down at the small blooms. He should bring them back to the dragon clan, they perhaps had some medicinal value. It wasn’t just that a handsome man had given him pretty flowers. He went back to the makeshift camp and carefully put the flowers down. It was winding down, they had to be up early to hunt for meat for the clan.

“Sire?”

“Yes, Leon?”

“I really like these people. Why doesn’t the king?” 

Arthur watched Lancelot clean his sword, check everyone’s weapons for them. Tristan was braiding Isolde’s hair, they were talking, drifting off. They were just people who happened to have an extraordinary gift. He heard a noise and Berit hopped onto his lap and circled a bit. His father would scream and rage that he was letting a dragon near him. Arthur began to bet Berit who seemed to be almost singing in pleasure. “I don’t know,” Arthur had to say. “Leon, do you agree with us staying, marrying into the clan?” Leon had been his father’s man for several years, he would be of any one but Arthur the most loyal to the rules of Camelot. 

“I don’t know,” Leon admitted, “It is difficult to believe in the old gods and destiny, but we saw a woman be pushed off a mountain and turn into a dragon the exact colour of your emblem. You have a dragon curled in your lap, as if he has been your pet for years. Gwaine and Conan are well, we’ll reinforce the walls of the barracks? Though I guess if Gwaine is married to the dragon lord he’ll have better quarters.”

“Leon -”

“I was your father’s squire, when you and Gwen were friends, sire. I remember you two together. I remember you smiling. And I remember when you stopped. You have been smiling again the last few days. So I support this. Because you are my commander and it is nice to see you smile again.”

“Leon, we are friends,” Arthur said softly and Leon beamed at him. Such a small statement and it meant the world to the knight who had stood by his father, who stood by Arthur now. “What do you think we will find when we return?”

“I don’t know. But we will save Camelot and the dragons, and then save whatever has to be saved next. Won’t we?”

“We will,” Arthur agreed. He clapped a hand on Leon’s shoulder. “My thanks.”

“He watches you,” Leon said in almost a whisper. 

“I know. I watch him too.”

“I am willing to give you much aid and advice sire, but well, when you want watching to be acting, you know to go to Gwaine for advice right?”

“I do,” Arthur reassured and Leon looked incredibly relieved. Berit made a noise in his sleep and Arthur picked up the small dragon and held it against his body. Leon was clearly laughing a little. “What it is getting cooler and he is little.”

“Think how well we are sleeping, no Conan crashing about,” Leon said. “We should sleep.”

Arthur nodded and lay on the pallet, Berit against his stomach and Arthur threw his cloak around the dragon for good measure. It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep just as it had been the last few nights, even among people he barely knew. But they were good people and he felt comfortable around them in a few he seldom did in Camelot. Maybe it was because they didn’t seem to especially care that he was the prince of Camelot. They just wanted him to be nice, good to dragons, follow the rules and help out. 

And marry their field commander and blacksmith.

He woke when there was a nudge against his foot. “Your watch, your highness,” Lancelot whispered.

“Arthur, I am sure you are supposed to call me Arthur.”

“I figured most people when they woke you called you the honourific, would startle you less.”

Arthur sat up and Berit whined. He received a deadly glare and Berit took over his sleeping pallet. “My apologies, little one,” Arthur whispered. He stood. “That is clever Lancelot.”

“Gwen sometimes shares her intelligence with Merlin and I.”

“Don’t-” Arthur ordered automatically. “My men know their value, and do not dismiss it.” He froze a bit. “I just mean -” Lancelot was touching his cheek and he didn’t know what to do.

“You are a good man, how has Uther not burned that out of you?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur said, “Because every time he tried to make me think a certain way, I would instead think, what would Gwen do in this situation?”

“Weren’t you children when you last spent true time with her?”

“But she was fierce even then, in her defense of people. Of what was right and wrong. It was the only decent guide I had, so I stuck with it.” Arthur tilted his head into the touch. “No one does that.”

“Does what?”

“Touches me,” Arthur shrugged a bit. “I’m the prince. I’m untouchable.”

“Not very,” Lancelot replied. His hand trailed down Arthur’s cheek and cupped the back of his neck. “I think you seem very touchable.” Arthur shivered a bit, Lancelot’s hand was so warm, he could feel the callouses on it and wondered how they would feel elsewhere. “And when we are home, I think we will make sure that you are touched regularly.” There was a kiss to his temple. “Safe watch.”

Arthur was in no danger of falling asleep mid watch after all that.

*

Arthur held the crossbow steady, and waited. He breathed out and fired. Most of the dragon clan used proper bows but this crossbow had always seen him true, and sure enough the bolt tore right through the buck’s eye and it was dead in an instant. They had had good luck in their hunt. Tristan actually had an amazing gift with snares and they had a good bracer of rabbits and this was the third deer and by far the largest. 

“Good show, sire,” Leon said and squeezed his shoulder. Arthur smiled at him. It was a good hunting ground this area, but it was still a couple days from the clan, and that meant they would have to dress the kill so the meat wouldn’t spoil. He had done it a few times, and had no problems admitting he didn’t care for it. He saw a few of the men hauling the buck and the other kills were being gathered too. “Where are they taking it?”

They both winced as Lancelot and Isolde called out in the dragon tongue. They followed the team to where the kills were being dragged to a small clearing. A few minutes later, Lancelot’s large dragon and Isolde’s of a similar size landed.

“Hello, Dolag,” Lancelot stroked his dragon’s nose, for a moment rested his forehead against the snout in affection. “We have kills that need to go to camp.”

“All of them?” Dolag was sniffing about. “You are getting a little fat, maybe you don’t need all of them.”

Arthur didn’t think, one of his men had just been insulted and that was not to be borne. He moved in between the dragon and Lancelot. “You dare?” he snarled. “That is unacceptable behaviour to someone who clearly adores and cares for you. Do you have no respect or honour for the commander of the dragon clan? For one who holds you in - are you laughing at me?” He thought the dragon was actually laughing at him. And most of the company was.

Even Lancelot was smiling a bit. Arthur had made a fool of himself. Lovely. He gave a nod to the dragon and left the clearing. He had a good head for direction and started walking himself back to the encampment. Eventually Leon caught up to him and he opened his mouth, but one look had him closing it. But Arthur accepted the shoulder squeeze that Leon gave him.

Eventually they stopped for the night and set up a small camp. A few hours later the dragon clan team found them and set up as well but nothing was said and the air was awkward. More awkward that even the first day with the clan. But Arthur didn’t try to change that air. Instead he lay down on his pallet. “Wake me for third watch.”

Isolde woke him, and it was a quick watch, as everyone was up and eager to be back. They pushed hard and by dusk were back. The others all were dropping off gear and headed to the pools, but Arthur wanted to check on his men. It was easy to find Percival and Gwaine they were in the training ring, lit with torches and oddly placed poles in the ground. He went over after Leon said he would find Elyan. “What are you doing?”

“Conan flies well in a straight line, dives incredibly. But we often fight woods and trees mean tight corners. So we are playing hunt the knight but with obstacles. Wanna play?”

Arthur saw Conan up in the air. “Yes.” He was exhausted from the journey back but some fun just for a moment to forget he had been a fool would be lovely. 

“Go in between the ‘trees’,” Gwaine said. Arthur took a spot and Percival was a bit away. “Conan ready?”

Arthur grinned when Conan shouted, “NO!” but was clearly watching them. He waited for Gwaine to say hunt the knight but instead, Gwaine let out a shrill whistle and Conan dived. Arthur moved between the poles and so did Percival and Conan was having a harder time, but Gwaine was calling out encouragement and simple help like “turn,” “spin,” “up.” Arthur dove out of the way and Percival got a face full of Conan. Gwaine cheered the successful hunt and started to clear up the poles and obstacles. Arthur helped him while Percival was tossing bones as a treat to Conan.

“I fucked up,” Arthur said quietly as he followed Gwaine to a storage tent. “I made a fool of myself.”

“How is that different from most days?” Gwaine said as he put stuff down. But when he straightened and met Arthur’s gaze he grew somber. “Arthur?”

Arthur just shook his head. “It was stupid.”

“Probably not as bad as you think,” Gwaine offered. “Look, if you like at dinner tonight, I can make an absolute display. Trust me, whatever small thing you have blown out of proportion in your mind, they will forget.”

Arthur smiled a bit at that. “Lancelot’s dragon insulted him. I know now it was teasing, like how you do -”

“I may not look it, but I am damned careful with how I insult you, Arthur,” Gwaine said. “I know. I do. I understand.” Gwaine’s hands came to rest on his shoulders. “Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t hate you. And you lead us well. You are a prat sometimes because all rich and royal tits are. But you made it clear that you wouldn’t hunt me down if I deserted. And I am still here.”

“You are.” Arthur took a chance and pressed his forehead to Gwaine’s. They stood like that for a moment until they both heard running. Arthur spun ready to fight, but it was Gwen and when she launched herself at him, Arthur caught her. “Gwen? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t explain to Lancelot. I am sorry,” she said and she was pressing kisses to his cheek and jaw. “I should have told him. I am sorry.” There were more kisses and they felt nice. Arthur held her gently, carefully. And tried desperately not to think about how her legs wrapped around his waist. Gwaine gave a nod and skirted around the, disappeared into the almost dark it was outside. There was a bench and Arthur maneuvered to it and she was sitting on his lap, still apologizing.

“Gwen, Gwen! What are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything that I know of. Did you stab Gwaine while I was gone? He probably deserved it.” 

“Lancelot told me what happened. He was worried and confused.” Gwen was staying on his lap but leaned back a little to cup his face. “He apparently yelled at everyone for laughing.”

“It was stupid.”

“It was honourable,” Gwen replied, “and instinct. I remember you know, when your father insulted me, and you stepped between us. I remember all the times you stepped between him and Morgana when they butted heads. You didn’t think. You heard insults being tossed to Lancelot, a man you instinctively have decided is on the list of people you protect, and you stepped up.”

“It was incredibly foolish,” Arthur shook his head, “and they are all right to think me an idiot.”

“They don’t,” Gwen said firmly. “I promise they don’t.” Arthur closed his eyes as she drew a triangle on his face, from the center of his forehead, down to his left cheek, across his lips and then back up. Their secret touch, when they were scared. They had believed it would protect them. Arthur reached out and drew the same on Gwen. They didn’t say it had been created to protect them from Uther, but they knew. “It wasn’t necessary but that you would have protected my husband like that? Arthur, it means a great deal to me.” Her lips pressed against his. “But now you need a bath. Go before supper is set out.”

Arthur couldn’t let her go for a moment but when Gwen slid off his lap, he went. The pools were quiet and he didn’t bother going to the usual distant one, just the closest that he could stand the temperature of. The water helped soothe some of the tension out of his shoulders and he didn’t linger. He went to the Camelot tent and changed his clothes. At the tables he was surprised. Gwen and Lancelot were sitting with his men. Well, most; Gwaine was at the head table, next to Merlin looking awkward and unsure. Conan was sitting next to him as if he was a person and preening under all the praise he was getting from the crowd.

“Arthur, between us,” Gwen called. 

Arthur sat down and food was brought out. He didn’t have a chance to do fill his plate, Lancelot handed him a plate. Gwen and Lancelot both were busy talking to his men, but there were casual touches, smiles thrown his way. Isolde walked behind them and ruffled his hair. Perhaps he hadn’t ruined everything. He ate slowly, and after he was done, he place a hand on Gwen’s knee and she leaned against him, tucked her arm through his. Elyan was beaming at them, it was a sight he would have remembered from when they were kids. 

There was a nudge and Arthur lifted his other hand, Lancelot’s pressed against it. They sat like that while some people juggled and sang, performed for the clan. He was being touched. With affection. It was so rare, and he was scared to get used to it, sure it would be taken away.

But at least he could enjoy it for the moment.


End file.
